


Knife Edge

by MidgetBanana



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blind Character, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slight Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, buttload of cliches, dark themes, darker than Arcana's usual themes, it's not graphic but there's a short animal abuse segment, mentions of past apprentice/lucio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-05 10:57:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18364616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidgetBanana/pseuds/MidgetBanana
Summary: A personal take on Arcana story with a rather more established Apprentice. Story will focus on the development of their relationship as well as their past that should have left forgotten.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As of the writing of this story, Muriel's route has not yet completely published. I took huge liberties with the canon story, be warned. (PS: Apprentice is not blind in the traditional sense, i tagged it just in case)

First thing Karayan noticed was thick, metallic musk of blood. The fact that he couldn’t sense his master only served as a small comfort as his fingers grazed the wetness covering the doorknob. He jerked his hand back, bringing it closer to his nose only to confirm what he’d resentfully anticipated. 

Despite the alarming sense of danger, there was a call for help, resonating from the other side of the door. Pushing down his anxiety, he passed through the still intact protective charm. Whatever’s inside, Asra’s magic deemed safe.

There was a faint presence of a person, not the person themselves but a connection to them. A talisman, perhaps. But then he heard a baffling sound. Not human and not the product of any magical artifact he’d ever seen. The growling continued, more impatiently now.

He realized, much to his surprise, a  _ familiar _ . A canine, from the sound of it.

He would’ve recognized it much faster had he been able to feel the person it belonged to. However when he reached out with his magic, all he felt was a vast emptiness, as if they’ve been… erased. First, he thought of the worst, they must be dead. The familiar must’ve found its way here somehow. But when he thought of the alternative it made his blood run cold, if they’re alive and skilled enough to disguise their aura from Karayan, they could be right there, standing an inch away from him and he wouldn’t even know.

Familiar huffed at his attempt to adopt a defensive posture.

“Anyone there?” he asked, trying to keep his tone leveled. No answer. He decided to address the only presence he could sense, “Is your master here?”

It simply whined, but didn’t otherwise hold any further answers. The sensation of worry the animal was emitting was so strong that Karayan couldn’t help letting his guard down a little. He had felt the call for aid even before he stepped in, whoever this animal was bound to must have been in some sort of danger.

“This isn’t your blood.” he concluded more to himself, since there’s no one around who can argue. It was human blood. “You need help?” he asked. A human would be reluctant, accepting the help of a blind man but animals didn’t care. That’s what he found comforting about them.

He sensed the familiar’s affirmation rather than hearing it and the animal approached him. Something wet pressed on his knuckles, making him flinch. He collected himself, realizing it’s only nose. He stretched back to the feeling, running his fingers through it’s soft, yet thick fur.

Familiar tugged on his sleeve impatiently. Letting out a huff of laughter, he complied and followed the canine.

He’s led to the woods. He didn’t know the forest well enough to be out here alone but he didn’t feel scared. Flora was much easier to navigate through than stone, it reacted to his magic when he felt the need. Even now, if he were to be led astray, all he’d have to do is to inquire the soil beneath his feet to show him the way.

Farther they go, the more concern he felt from the familiar and slowly, but unmistakably, the harmony of nature left way to something foul. Something lurked amidst these trees that reeked of vile greed and rage. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but from what little Asra had told him, it felt somewhat similar to plague. Still, it felt too distant to pose a real threat.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the animal had stopped. He bumped on him and earned himself a scolding scowl. They must’ve reached wherever their destination was.

It was immediately apparent to him that a battle had taken place here, damaging the branches and kicking the soil. He could make out the forest’s outrage, and death stench.

Among the chirping crickets and birds, his ears caught the sound of ragged breaths.

He tried to focus on it, there was definitely someone there. However, despite his best effort he couldn’t feel a modicum of presence. He heard the animal rushing to their side. They obviously existed, they were there, physically.

“Inanna…?” a raspy, male voice spoke. He didn’t sound too old, although there was a sense that the voice was not too used to be used. He heard rustling and chains from above where something lied dead and the man lashed out in panic as his familiar took few steps too close, “What are you doing here! Get away!”

The sheer volume of his tone made Karayan jump. He barely managed to choke down a yelp.

He wasn’t usually this tense, this was not like him. He was used to the absence of his vision. He’d been lucky that he was attuned with his powers, allowing him to see through his magic. He wouldn’t know the shape or colour of his surroundings or individual objects but he’d know their ‘presence’. Everything had a presence. Everything, except this man.

This man did not exist in Karayan’s world. And for the first time he actually felt utterly blind.

“You.” he growled accusingly. He’s found out, it seemed. He attempted to appear as non threatening as he can. Not like anybody would cover away at the sight of a sightless man, small and frail in figure. He seemed to recognize him. Karayan was quite sure he would take note of a person that had the ability to slip away from his magic, but then if the man had seen him from afar, he would have no way of sensing him.

There was a shift in position, a rough fabric slid down and the scent of blood hit Karayan again. This time stronger than before, fresher. It oozed from the man.

Forgetting his reservations, he found himself rushing forth “You’re hurt!”

The man flinched away. For a brief second a rush of emotion washed over him; fear, panic, anxiety… and it made him stop dead on his tracks. It was the first thing he got from the wounded man, a faintest glimpse of his aura and it made his stomach drop.

“Don’t touch me!” he shouted, with the same tone that sent chills down his spine.

Slowly, he lifted his hands up, exposing his palms. He took a step back, hoping to give him some space. “Alright… I won’t.”

In truth, he could tell the bleeding got pretty serious. He was in a bad shape and if Karayan had to immobilize him to save his life, he would. He just wished it wouldn’t come to that.

Thankfully some of the tension seeped from the man.

He seemed to be still guarding whatever lied dead. It had been touched by the rot Karayan had felt as they tranverved through the woods. He was under the impression that it didn’t have a physical form, it didn’t feel… material. It wasn’t the only thing his senses failed to determine today.

“Leave. You’re not needed here.”

Before he could take offense to his tone, in the distance, he heard ethereal howling echoing through the trees. The putrid wave of rage drizzled through the leaves, lashing on and at them. And, at the same time, he heard a soft whimper of pain from the man.

His wounds didn’t look like something he can just shake off. Inanna had dragged him here to help him. They couldn’t stay here, it was coming. He didn’t know what ‘it’ was yet but he didn’t need his eyes to know it craved misery. He knew he couldn’t just leave him here to bleed out alone.

“We don’t have time for this!” he snapped. Ignoring the man’s earlier warning, he approached him again. He was hurt, and Karayan didn’t care for his comfort right now. He summoned his healing magic, letting it collect in his palms… and he reached out.

“G-get away from me!” The man scrambled back, the swift movement making Karayan wince as well. The rash emotion he got from the other man was so similar to a cornered animal that for a second he thought he may strike at him. But all he heard was shallow, rapid breaths.

He was feeling the rot creeping up closer by the minute and his patience was running thin, he didn’t want to be here when it reached the clearing and it didn’t sit right with him to leave a wounded person behind. Despite his best efforts to dismiss him.

“You’re hurt! You need help, and I can give it!” he was surprised by the force carried on his own voice, he didn’t mean his words to come out that harshly.

“I don’t need your help.” he spat. As if to prove it, he slowly got to his feet, grunting with pain… And then wobbled and dropped back down, panting loudly.

He ran through his options: He could try to reason with him again, even though it bore little fruit so far. He could turn around and walk away, add this to the pile of odd experiences, only to be forgotten in time.

He let out a frustrated sigh and took the third option. Slumping down beneath a tree truck, he resigned.

“Wha--What are you doing?” the man stuttered, as confused as ever. And honestly, Karayan didn’t know either.

He shrugged and admit, “I don’t know.”

“Go. You can’t stay here.”

“Well, I can’t leave you to bleed out and I can’t convince you to accept my help. So…” he pressed on the tree and let his head fall back, “I don’t know.”

“Why can’t you leave me to bleed out?”

“Why can’t you accept my help?” he shot back, the man grunt in defeat. They sat in silence, locked in a stalemate.

Eventually, other man let out a sigh and murmured “I just… need to get back to the hut.”

“Tell you what? Let me help you to your hut and you’ll never have to suffer my presence again. I’ll be gone from your life forever.”

“You won’t.” he whispered in annoyance.

Karayan rose to his feet. Despite his best efforts, his irritation sept in his words, “You’re not pleasant enough a company for me to keep coming back.”

For a long moment it felt like he still might refuse. But it quickly passed, he gave a raspy “...fine.” and let him approach.

“Lean on me.” he instructed. Since he couldn’t exactly see the man, he didn’t know which position he was in or where his arms were and he lifted his hands to grasp at air as discreetly as he could manage. He didn’t want to give the man another excuse to chase him off. Something warm brushed his fingertips, he clutched on it instinctively. It’s so thick that for a passing moment, he thought he might’ve grabbed on his leg and he felt a flush creep on his cheeks. He relaxed a little when the limb curled around his shoulders and proved itself to indeed be an arm.

His whole body clearly thrumming with tension at the contact, the man reluctantly allowed Karayan to guide them.

“You can put more weight on me. It’s okay, you won’t hurt me.” as soon as the words left his lips he steadied himself for a condescending remark. The other man felt insanely huge, he had guessed he’d be above average from the lagging movement but his arm was almost the scale of Karayan’s waist. And he was told that he had a petite figure, he could only imagine what other people saw when they look at him. His physical strength seemed to be rather more connected to his magical proficiency, as do everything else in his life. Surely this man, who was thrice the size of him would be hard-pressed to believe anything coming from him.

The moment came and passed, and no remarks were made. In fact, he leaned on him just a tiniest bit more. It was nowhere close to even half of his weight but Karayan took his victories where he can.

They hadn’t had more than ten steps and the air around them started to fade. Whatever’s been tailing was upon them at last. Karayan didn’t know what the other man saw but he stopped in his tracks. He whispered, “He’s back.”

He stepped in front of Karayan, as if he’s in any shape to defend him.

Wind kicked up a little flurry of leaves, they passed through them, ruffling Karayan’s cloak. As cloth fell back slowly, something scraped the back of his neck. It was so brief and mild, it may as well have been a grain of sand, but an abhorrent chill overwhelmed his senses.

He managed to conjure a barrier just in time. Foul force violently crashed on it like a wave and rippled apart, only to get back up again.

Karayan saw it, then. More clearly than anything he’s ever seen.  _ The Devil _ .

No, not the Devil themselves but a rough sketch of them… It lunged towards them, moving to strike and he acted without thinking. He released the magic stored in the barrier with a burst of energy. It sent a shockwave around them, causing branches to creak in pain.

The creature was thrown back with the force, it shrieked  _ You can’t run from me forever!  _ and Karayan couldn’t be sure whether it was out loud or not. It was clear that this was no creature of this realm, having a much lighter, ethereal apparition. It readied itself for another attack and this time it’s the forest that fought back. Karayan placed his hand on the ground, feeling his power surge through. As if to answer his call, vines ran over his palm. He focused on his enemy, and nature obeyed. Thousands of vines latched onto the creature even before he made it anywhere close to them.

Karayan pulled back, he wanted to know what it is, he wanted to know what it wants… But above all, he wanted to finish the job. In an obscene frenzy, he felt his own anger resonating with his magic as it rushed towards his hand to strike.

He was stopped. A hand squeezed his wrist tightly, and he remembered the bloodied man beside him. He tugged on it, saying “...This way. Hurry.”

He led them down a path apart from the main, halfway through and the creature finally broke free. It moved as if to follow them but reached the start of the path and lurched to a stop. Above his head dangled a little charm. It was simple, yet made with expertise. He recognized it as one of Asra’s.

Leaving the odd creature wailing behind, they finally made it to the hut. By the time the man’s familiar let them in, he’d lost so much blood that he couldn’t even hold back his weight anymore. As soon as the door shut behind them, Karayan gently let the man down next to what he assumed to be a fireplace. He let out a low grunt of pain and continued panting slightly. Karayan took a deep breath, shaking off the adrenaline.

The other man said weakly, “...Thank you.” and just when Karayan thought that maybe he’s not so bad, he quickly shattered it by adding “Now go away.”

There was no real venom behind the words, yet his preference was clear. And they did have a deal. He gave the other man a polite nod before taking his leave, only to find his exit blocked by the familiar. He crouched down to scratch behind Inanna’s ears, “I did all I could.” Even as he said that he didn’t believe himself and sure enough, familiar didn’t fall for it either, planting herself between the door and smaller man like a tree. He tugged on the door slightly to no avail. The canine wouldn’t budge an inch.

He decided to give her some time, it’s not like he could do much else. There must’ve been an exchange between her and her master because soon enough the man complied, “Fine. You can stay to catch your breath.  _ Then _ leave.”

He didn’t argue, he could use a little downtime. He slowly slid down to sit beside Inanna, gently winding a hand in her furs. Now that he could touch her freely, he found out that her shape resembled a wolf.

The hut was simple and warm, too empty to be someone’s home. But somehow it felt comfortable here. He felt safe.

“That thing chasing us…” he stopped himself, it was apparent from his general demeanor that even if he knew anything, he wasn’t going to tell him. There were many things he wanted to ask him… Why was he wounded? Why couldn’t he sense him? Why did he have his master’s charms?.. But given the man’s attitude, he went with something simpler.

“What’s your name?”

“Why.”

“So I know what to call you.”

“Just don’t call me.”

Tedious as it was, Karayan didn’t push it. It was his home, after all. And he already made it abundantly clear that he was not welcome here.

Keeping his mouth shut, he shed his cloak and folded it over his lap. It looked like he’d be here for a while.

As he smoothed the cloth with his hands, the man surprised him by reluctantly saying “...Muriel.”

He couldn’t help reveling in this small victory as the corners of his lips curled up, “I’m Karayan.”

“I know who you are.”

“You… do?”

His heart sank a little, he must’ve been someone from his past, and from the looks of it, they hadn’t left things on best of terms. “I’m sorry… I don’t remember.”

“Good. You shouldn’t.”

“No, I mean… I’m missing my memories, everything before three years ago. If I’ve done something to off--”

“I know that, too.”

Before he could say anything else Muriel got up, he was clearly done talking. There was a scent of blood that followed wherever he went. Karayan scrambled on his feet without thinking about it, “We need to get you fixed up.”

“I can do it myself.”

He said that but his ragged breathing and limping steps spoke otherwise.

“Let me help you, please.”

Karayan prepared for an immediate refusal, honestly, he didn’t even know why he tried anymore.

A long time passed that he didn’t hear any footsteps but since he couldn’t see him either, he was unsure of how to proceed.

“I can’t tell if you’re shaking your head.”

“I’m not.”  

It wasn’t quite the consent he’d hoped for but it was enough for now. “I’ll get the supplies.” he said as he took another wobbly step and then stumbled on his knees. Karayan lurched to his side, his feeble physique was not capable of supporting him completely but he at least managed to break the fall. The skin under his palm was so warm, his heart fluttering loudly in his chest. He let go immediately, muttering a hasty “Sorry.”

He wasn’t sure what it was about Karayan that terrified the man so, he was under the impression his features were rather soft. Some people would rush to his side for help, when they saw his eyes and some would think him an easy target for pickpocketing but never before had he experienced anyone covering from him.

He’d be the one covering, if he had half a mind. He was in a remote place, trapped with a stranger whose intentions he couldn’t sense, who was physically in a vastly superior condition and Karayan had already used up most of his power fighting a bizarre creature.

Out of nowhere, he felt fingers gently wrapping around his wrist. He almost yanked it away, only to stop himself last second, realizing it must be Muriel. They guided his hand back on the man. There was no force behind, only a faint permission.

Moving to support the man again, he led him over to a stool and urged him to sit. He searched around, extending his magic. He didn’t feel a running body of water inside the hut but he found a cold bucket of it over in the corner. When he reached for it, his hand touched a rag hanging off it. He collected them and brought them back over to the wounded man.

Unease dripping from his voice, he asked “What are you doing?”

“I need the wound cleaned before I can mend it.”

“I’ll do it.”

He tried to grab the rag from the blind man and then grunt again. The sudden movement made Karayan jerk away instinctively, bringing with him the rag that was now well out of Muriel’s reach.

This blind spot in his vision when it came to Muriel was extremely frustrating. He was not used to facing someone he couldn’t make sense of. With him, all he could do was to rely on his hearing and although it wasn’t that big of a trouble in theory, in practice he wasn’t that good at it. Damn near everything caught him off-guard.

He extended the cloth towards Muriel and as soon as it left his hand, he heard a hiss and the rag flopped down, Karayan barely caught it before it hit the ground. There was no further debate when he closed the gap between them, Muriel was in no shape to do anything and it seemed he finally had to accept that as well. He reached out slowly, so Muriel could see what he was doing, and gently pulled the cloak from his shoulders. Muriel shivered then forced himself still.

Karayan’s fingers touched along a harness below the pool of blood. Trailing it, they came to an abrupt stop around his neck. He gasped softly as he felt the cold steel of a massive collar.

Putting his curiosity on hold, he asked “Can you show me where the wound is precisely? I don’t want to hurt you.”

He had a pretty good idea where it was, exactly. Still, he didn’t like the risk of causing him more pain.

It took a while but in the end, larger hand warily wrapped around his finger. He guided Karayan’s hand through the edge of the gash, drawing an outline of it.

He started carefully wiping the sticky blood away from his skin. Every time he runs the cloth over him he stiffened again, and everytime his fingers so much grazed over a scar, more past hurt. He wondered what happened to him, but he knew he wasn’t entitled to other people’s privacy. He could feel how tense every muscle in his body was, too. Like he’s still afraid of his touch.

“Are you alright?” he didn’t realize he said it out loud. It was a stupid question, he was wounded and he was extremely uncomfortable. Of course he wasn’t alright.

But then, he felt his gaze on him and it stilled his hand, “...Why would you care?”

“Your heart is beating so loudly.”

“I-I’m fine.” he stammered hastily.

“Does it hurt?”

“No…”

Reluctantly, he asked “Do I scare you?”

He was surprised that he wasn’t met with an immediate refusal, most everyone would laugh it off “I know it can be off putting but I assure you I’m quite harmless. My master would say I’m a danger to no one but myself.”

“...You fought him off.” Muriel sounded unconvinced.

“Oh, the creature?” he did have a point, they didn’t have a very peaceful introduction. “I suppose… ”

But why would Karayan drag him all the way to his hut just to cause him harm, he had a better shot out in the opening… Surely this man wouldn’t think a stranger cruel enough to give him a false sense of security only to take him down later. “If it makes you feel any better… I can’t sense you, at all. There’s no one safer from me than you.” he smiled, more to himself “It’s actually a little unsettling, to be honest.”

“...why.”

He didn’t know why he was telling this to a shady man he just met but something about him made Karayan feel oddly secure. “I’m not used to it. Seems we are both at the edge of our comfort zones here.”

He grumbled lowly, “...I should be able to do this myself.”

Karayan placed a hand gently on his shoulder and he wasn’t shocked to feel even more scar tissue beneath his palm. This time, at least, the man didn’t jump.

“It’s okay to ask for help, sometimes.”

“No. It’s not.”

Karayan sighed. “I’m sorry if I came off too strong…” he continued while squeezing the rag and brought it back on his skin “I couldn’t tell whether you’d be hostile or not.”

“And you can now?” his reply came uncharacteristically fast that Karayan lost his trail of thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like a threat though. “I am unharmed, am I not?” he said.

He gingerly ran his hand along his abdomen to check for blood and brought the rag over to rid the remaining stickiness. He shivered under his touch, but didn’t flinch away. It felt more like a muscle memory than anything else.

Eventually, he sat back, content with however much he managed to clean. He discarded the rag and circled around the man to position himself closer to the wound.

“Does it bother you?”

He started, like he wasn’t expecting the words. It felt like he was going to deny it for a moment, then he took a deep breath, “It’s going to scar.”

“You don’t like your scars?”

For a long moment, Muriel didn’t answer. Eventually he swallowed hard, “They scare people.”

“Good thing I can’t see them, then.” Karayan chuckled lightheartedly. There were things about Muriel that indeed did -or should- scare him, he felt glad that his physical appearance didn’t play a role.

“Can I use my magic to heal it?” he waited for permission before placing his hand on the open flesh. The man made a sound that Karayan elected to interpret as ‘yes’.

He couldn’t do this from afar, he needed to visualize the action. And he couldn’t visualize a wound on a man who is invisible to him. So he, very carefully, pressed his palm over the gash. He summoned his magic, letting it concentrate in his fingers and thought of healing. The skin under his touch started to knit together. The mending followed as he skimmed through from one end to the other with his hand. Despite his best effort, he could tell the spot was slightly puckered when he finished. He frowned at the thought that it was going to leave a scar, after all “I’m sorry, seems I expended most of my power on that creature...”

Muriel ran his hand over the healed spot, assessing his handiwork. Then, seemingly satisfied, he cleared his throat, “...Thanks.”

Seeing how there was nothing more for him to do here, Karayan got on his feet, “I’ll leave you be.” he said, reaching for his cloak. As soon as any weight was put on them, his legs gave from under him. He wobbled forward and landed flush against something warm. He realized it was Muriel’s chest. Panicked and embarrassed, he tried to prop himself up but his hands uselessly fell over the man’s body. He could only muster enough strength to push himself away and with his legs still as limp as before, it only served to slide him down.

A strong grip wrapped over his shoulder tentatively, steadying him. He thought, hazily, how inappropriate he was being and how uncomfortable this must’ve been for Muriel. He thought that he should try to explain… They all blended with the lightness of his head. The last thing he felt was his cheek pressed on Muriel’s chest and his steady heartbeat lulling him as the exhaustion overtook him.

He woke up in panic. Immediately, he knew this was not the shop. It wasn’t anywhere he’d been before. It felt vaguely familiar in sense, like a dream that fades away the harder he tries to remember. He’d gone to the shop, there’d been a wolf… They’d travelled into the forest, and then… Nothing.

He sat up, heart beating rapidly in his chest. There was another person in the room. He knew that by their breathing but he couldn’t sense them. They took a hulking step towards him, creaking the wood floor as they moved.

Karayan crawled back, cornering himself to the wall. He kept a pocket knife in his satchel for convenience but he didn’t know where his possessions were. Even if he did, he wasn’t sure how useful it would’ve been against someone who he couldn’t see. Still, he tensed up, ready to fight.

“You’re awake.” the mystery man spoke. Smell of eggs filled his lungs. Was he holding eggs? Was he an egg? Karayan could only guess…

“Who are you?!” he yelled, holding up his hand flickering with magic. He didn’t feel strong enough for a fight but at least it was still a threat. He should know him, why didn’t he know him..? Why couldn’t he remember anything? Was he drugged? Cursed?

The man sighed, dropping the plate of eggs on a surface.

“I’m Muriel.”

It meant nothing to Karayan, he had never heard the name before.

“Why can’t I feel you?” he demanded, ignoring the previous statement.

The man didn’t say anything but got up and went over to rummage around something. Then he walked over to Karayan, slowly. He handed him a little satchel of herbs. The smell was so familiar…

Myrrh. He knew that smell. He clutched the satchel in his hands before his memories came flooding back. “Muriel…”

“Do you remember now?”

He did indeed, and he felt blood rushing to his head as he remembered passing out on his chest. How could he have forgotten that?

“What kind of magic is this?”

“It’s... a spell. People look away from me and they forget.”

This is no ordinary spell, he thought. He knew some forget-me spells, stealth being his primary school of magic. This was much more permanent, it wasn’t just lack of memory, it was lack of presence. He would know his master’s footprint from a mile away.

“Asra…” he tensed again, “he would not have thrown out a curse like that on just anyone. What’s your deal?”

He sounded extremely annoyed “I asked him.”

It only gave birth to even more questions in Karayan’s head. He fought himself to push them back for the most part.

“Asra is a friend, then?”

“Yes.” his voice softened just a little.

“Is that the reason I can’t sense your aura?”

“...Yes.”

“Myrrh helps?”

There was a pause.

“Are you nodding?”

“...Yes.”

“Will I forget you again?”

“Not if you keep that pouch with you.”

He sounded annoyed with the prospect. Like he preferred to be forgotten. Unwillingly, he held the pouch out for him, “Would you like it back?”

There was no response but the pouch was left in his grasp. After a little while, he pulled it back with a smile.

“Thanks.”

“For what.”

“For the pouch. And the eggs.”

“...Don’t mention it.”

The turn of phase sounded far more serious on Muriel’s lips than any other’s. Karayan studied the place, trying to commit it to his memory. Inanna was peacefully napping by the fireplace but something on top of it grabbed his attention. A trinket, of sorts, resonated like Asra… It felt sentimental. His master’s fingerprints were all over this place, it relaxed him a little. They must’ve been pretty close, despite his cuddly attitude, Asra was not a very open person.

He recognized some of the charms hanging by the window as his own work. Asra occasionally put up an order for protective charms in bulk, seldom paid. He wasn’t surprised some of them had found their way here.

He found himself curious about the man in front of him. He didn’t have a particular accent, and Karayan had no way to know his appearance… “I want to know more about you.”

There was no answer but a sharp intake of a breath.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He heard the stool creak but the man remained seated. After a moment, he scowled “...What sort of things?”

Karayan did want to know what he looked like, but considering how uncomfortable he’d beed about his scars earlier, he thought it might be a touchy subject. These things were purely substantial, anyways. He was just used to asking these whenever he met someone new.

“What’s your favourite animal?”

“A… favourite animal?”

He nodded encouragingly, “Yes, you know… Like snakes, or dogs, or goats--”

“Not goats.” he cut him off. Karayan chuckled, remembering the encounter from last night. “Not goats. That’s fair. Then, is there a specific kind of animal that… when you see or think of it, makes you happy?”

He took so long to respond that Karayan thought he may have casted a vanishing spell “...Bears.” Inanna let out an offended whine. “Inanna’s alright, too.”

“Bears, huh. They’re cute.” he did remember what a bear looks like, he must’ve seen it in his past. It had been white, though. Bear’s around these parts must’ve been black or brown. “How about a flower? Any favourites?”

There was some shuffling noises and to his surprise, Muriel pulled his hand, placing a tiny, delicate flower on his palm. It was dried and pressed but Karayan knew what it was.  “Forget-me-nots?” How very ironic, he thought.

“They feel…” Muriel searched for a word, eventually coming up short, “I like them.”

He snatched it back. The climate here was much too humid for them, closest they grow must’ve been the mountains up south, where it was dry and cold. There was one final question running through his head, he felt like he had to ask “Are you… alone out here?”

There was no marks left around other than Asra, and Asra spended most of the time he’s in Vesuvia in the shop. Unless… he ran off to this remote get-away whenever he said he’s embarking on yet another adventure.

“Yes.” Muriel answered flatly.

“Doesn’t it get lonely?”

“No.” he sighed, “Besides. You’re here right now. So… I’m not alone.”

He sounded annoyed… Karayan tried to keep his voice soft, he didn’t want to guilt the man “I can go if you want. We had a deal, after all.”

“...Finish your eggs, first.”

He hid a smile in his next bite. But then he realized… “You don’t have any.”

Muriel was just sitting there awkwardly, waiting for him to finish. He didn’t say anything.

“Did you… give me your eggs?”

He waved him off, “Don’t you have more important thing to do or something?”

“Plenty.” he gave a lopsided grin, “But I doubt Dr. Devorak’s gonna mind me taking a little break.”

“Him? What business do you have with him? ”

The irritation in his voice made Karayan believe that he may knew him, so he explained what Countess had requested of him.

“He confessed to--” he snorted, it almost sounded like he might’ve laughed. He collected himself promptly, “If you want his murderer, go into the forest and ask him.”

It took Karayan a while to understand, “That… creature.”

“That’s all that’s left of Lucio.”

He thought back to the creature. He had felt that presence in the Palace, in his room, over his belongings… Ghosts could result from particularly violent deaths. However that wretched being stuck in-between was neither alive or dead. Dead could linger, but to be powerful enough to attack the living was unheard of. It was simply a barrier that could not be crossed.

“That wasn’t a spirit. What is he?”

“I don’t know.” Muriel shrugged, “I don’t know what happened to him. If he’s dead, he’s doing a very bad job.”

“If he’s strong enough to apparate in our world, he could be pulled through. We might--”

“No!”

The sharp turn of his voice made Karayan jolt in his seat but he took a breath to calm himself and nodded, “You’re right. Dead should stay dead.”

Muriel snorted but didn’t otherwise say anything. Just as Karayan took his last bite, he felt a familiar aura and his head snapped up to the door,

“What?” Muriel shifted on his seat.

“As--” Before he can finish, the front door flung wide open.

“Muriel, I need your help-- Our shop--” his panic reached through until he noticed his apprentice sitting at the table. First it turned to confusion, and then relief… “You’re alright! When I saw the blood in the shop, I thought--” he stopped himself, “But how did you get here?”

Karayan pointed at the wolf by the fireplace, “Your… uhm…” he searched for an appropriate word, “Muriel was-- Inanna was looking for you, I think… Lucio’s… I don’t know what that is, he--”

“You saw  _ him _ ?” Asra ran up to Karayan to cup his face, examining for any damage “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” he gently pushed back his hands, “You should be fussing over your friend, he’s the one whose blood redecorated our shop.”

“He fusses over me enough.” Muriel grumbled. Asra pulled up a stool next to his friend, Karayan couldn’t tell much but he got the feeling they might’ve been exchanging glances.

“I did that thing where I forget I have limited amount of magic…” Karayan rubbed the back of his neck nervously “So I passed out after the initial encounter. Muriel was kind enough to no kick me out. That’s it, basically.”

“I guess I need to give some explanations.” Asra started reluctantly but Karayan interrupted him, “No, it’s quite alright. I can tell that he’s a private person.”

“You can sense him?” Asra sounded surprised.

“No, but we talked… Briefly. Wait-- How do you know I can’t?”

“The.. uh… I cast that spell so… the tome I found it in said it would have this effect on people like you.”

He didn’t have to feel his master’s reservation to know he was holding something back. Still, he decided to let it slide.

He excused himself soon after, as he felt the old friends had a thing or two they wished to talk about privately. Asra, of course, rushed to have him stay.

He gave his master a rushed excuse about the salamander to make his escape.

On his way back, he couldn’t shake of the fuzzy, flush feeling in his chest. Someone like Muriel should have annoyed him. He was impolite, crude and very distant. He didn’t get along well with people like that. Much like his master, he was inquisitive by nature but unlike him, Karayan gave as much as he got. He surprised himself by how much he tried to keep a one-way conversation going. Perhaps he was wrong to pass judgement on people in his past on the basis of their initial demeanor.

He really hoped when Muriel told Asra of last night, he would skip the part where Karayan rubbed his cheek on his pecs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we are now in uncharted territory lads

Karayan began visiting the hut quite regularly. Not as often as he’d liked to but he tested the man’s patience enough as it was. He considered it a win when he was invited inside.

He felt like a glorified delivery guy, though it was worth it to hear the little excitement in Muriel’s voice when he saw the fresh bread in his hand. More than the man himself, his chickens were absolutely thrilled to have him. They scurried around his legs, waiting for the crumbs.

He used to be afraid of chickens. He still was, a little. If ever one of them got a bit too impatient and decided to claim the basket, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop it.

Today, he got invited in.

Muriel settled back to his seat by the fireplace and presumably carried on to whatever he’d been doing. It sounded like he’s… carving?

“Inanna’s out?”

“Hunting.”

He kicked off his boots, “She doesn’t want you around?”

“I scare off her prey.”

“Yeah, well she’s missing out the treat I bought her.” On the table, he placed the sack containing the fat he’d trimmed off of a beef he smoked earlier, “Though I doubt it compares to fresh meat.”

“She likes the treats.” for some reason, he made it sounds as if it irritated him.

“Am I pampering your little friends too much?”

He rumbled, “...It’s fine.”

“So, how have you been?”

“You were here yesterday.”

He couldn’t help pushing him a little “How have you been since yesterday?”

“Same.”

“What are you working on?” He approached the man.

“Nothing.” he retorted immediately, trying to hide whatever he has as if Karayan could see. He said eventually, “...I’m whittling.”

“Oh?”

He sounded way too flustered over a simple trinket, “It’s just… it’s nothing.”

“Okay, you’re off the hook.” His protectiveness made Karayan chuckle but he backed down “By the way, mind if I drop by tomorrow? Asra’s… away. And he asked if I could replenish the charms.”

“He said that?”

“I believe his exact words were ‘Oh, no. I completely forgot, these need to be put up.’ before he dropped a bunch of unfinished enchantments on my lap.” he added quickly, “Don’t worry, he makes me craft them all the time. I’m just glad that I finally know where all my hard work goes.”

He still sounded uncomfortable with the prospect but eventually nodded “...You can come.”

“Great, I’ll probably be here early in the morning. Gotta run now, I’m already late.”

He’d promised to help Julian clear his name. Considering Muriel’s earlier reaction to the mention of him, Karayan chose to withhold that information for now.

“Take care!” he waved and just as he passed the doorframe, he heard a weak “...you too.”

 

\-------

 

The next day, by the time he arrived, Inanna greeted him at the door. He knocked softly but he could hear Muriel was sound asleep.

He decided to leave the man be, he didn’t exactly need him awake. Accompanied by the wolf, he set off to do his work. He took down the expired charms all the while Lucio’s remnant kept eyeing them from a safe distance. It was mildly annoying but not a real danger. It seemed more afraid of Karayan than he was of it.

He was almost done at the back when the front door opened. Muriel walked out, oblivious to Karayan. He yawned loudly and made his way to the pen. Karayan didn’t exactly mean to hide but he was frozen as he tried to figure out what to do. Inanna gave him a quizzical huff, he shrugged in response.

As the man got on with his morning routine, he was humming softly. The melody sounded familiar, Karayan was sure he’d heard it from Asra. Eventually, Inanna gave up on him and trotted to his owner’s side.

“Morning.” he heard the man say, uncharacteristically warmly. He felt his chest tighten, to hear him sound so peaceful.

Muriel continued minding his business as he hummed along until he noticed the new charm by the front yard. “Did I miss him?” he asked the wolf, she simply grunted and Karayan heard the footsteps grow closer. He panicked. It would’ve been fine if he came out initially but now how could he explain that he’d been spying on him since he woke up. He could cast a quick invisibility spell on himself but that would look even more suspicious if he were to be found out. He needed to think fast, he needed--

Muriel’s voice came “How--”

He didn’t think, he just… yelled, “I wasn’t-- I’m-- I’m done here! I’ll be going!”

With that, he bolted. He literally darted through the path and didn’t think back until he’s safely out the forest. It felt like his heart might pummel out of his chest… That was it, he would never be able to go there again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a blast from past, if you will

“Will you drop by Muriel’s?” Asra asked coyly from upstairs. He knew damn well Karayan hadn’t set foot in the forest for a week.

“Wasn’t my plan, no. Why, you need something delivered?”

He fitted his satchel on his belt and wrapped his cloak around himself. Asra strolled down to see him off, as he always did, but today he was chattier than usual,

“Nope, just curious. Why not?”

“Because there are other things I need to take care of.”

“Hmmm… yeah.” he pushed the lid of Karayan’s bag to peek inside, “Dried tomatoes, sound like a very important endeavour.”

“What can I say, I’m a busy man.” he shrugged.

“So you’re not, say, avoiding Muriel.”

“ _ ‘Avoiding Muriel’ _ ?” he laughed at the prospect, “I couldn’t even if I tried.”

“Did he say something to you? He can be… a bit too blunt.”

“Nope.”

“Got kicked out?”

“Not precisely…”

“You know I will keep asking until you give me what I want.”

He let out a defeated sigh, he knew it very well. Once Asra had his mind set on something, he’d stop at nothing. “Okay, fine. I may have unintentionally eavesdropped on him.” he admitted.

“On…  _ him _ ?” he repeated, clearly implying at something extremely specific and something neither of them should ever be talking about. And Karayan could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment “No! What--Why would-- How?!  _ No! _ ”

“Calm down… use your words.”

He could practically feel his master grinning from ear to ear. He was having way too much fun with this. He threw his arms up in frustration “It’s just… he already thinks I’m suspicious-- Not that I blame him, or anything. I’ve been acting strange but--” he trailed off.

“Hmm? Why’s that?”

“I don’t know... probably because I can’t sense him. I’m out of my element, so to speak. And, well. You know, he’s not very expressive...” as he talked, he sensed Asra’s aura beaming and covering, it was not an odd occurrence but the topic of their chat wasn’t exactly that exciting so he finally cut himself off to ask, “Okay what’s going on?”

There was no response but a devilish snicker. He knew that snicker. It was an evil snicker. When it looked like he wouldn’t be getting any answer out of him, he threw his backpack over his shoulder, ready to go. Only, his backpack hit something behind. He turned around in horror to find a figure blocking his path. There was only one person who he couldn’t sense this up close “Oh that’s just--!” he rubbed his temples hard enough to dig into his skull, hoping to maybe squish his brain and end his misery “Lovely.”

He pushed the man aside, rather harshly, and slammed the door yelling, “Thanks a lot, Asra. Thanks.”

Asra would pay for this. Maybe he would draw something on his face next time he dozed off on the ottoman, or replace the sugar cubes with salt... This was not over.

Back in the shop it took Asra a while to collect himself. Muriel felt like he missed the joke, still, it was good to know he wasn’t the sole subject of his friend’s teasing. Giving Asra a little time, he set down the sack over the counter and pulled out fern he’d collected. When he could finally talk, he was still panting “You think I went a bit too far with that one?”

“He will be fine.” Muriel couldn’t think of one thing Asra would do that Karayan couldn’t forgive. He seemed generally used to this kind of thing.

Asra’s smile faltered a little, “You’re too hard on him.”

“What do you want me to do?”

He’d already opened up his house to the man, he’d entertained him to the best of his abilities. He didn’t feel like he owed him anything else on the basis of his best friend’s affection.

“He’s fun to be around, you should try it sometime.”

“Do I have to?”

“No, but then…” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully but there was a knowing spark in his gaze “Why give him the myrrh?”

“Don’t read too much into it.” Muriel cut him off. He grew tired of his continuous nosiness. It was a waste of both of their time, there was nothing to unravel between Karayan and him. Even if there was, it wouldn’t help with Asra’s case in any way. Muriel made a poor wingman.

“Was he right, then?” Asra kept prodding, “You find him ‘suspicious’?”

“He  _ is _ suspicious.”

“Muri, that was years ago… He doesn’t even remember--”

“So he claims.”

Asra leaned on the counter, casually inspecting the saps. His expression always softened whenever he talked about Karayan, “C’mon. Do you really think he could fake an entire personality,  _ for three years _ ?”

“I don’t know. And neither do you.”

“I do… You will too, if you give him a chance. He is a good man, he always was.”

“You’re too soft on him.”

“Have you forgot what he did, for  _ us _ ? ”

He wished he could, the memory never left him.

 

Muriel had first seen 'Karayan' many years ago, in a dreadful day that he was pitted against a man who many people knew as his stage name, ‘The Cannibal of Catalca’.

Up in the Podium, alongside the Count, his couriers and Asra stood a stranger. It was long before the man lost his sight or let his hair grow. Petite in figure, passive in stance yet eyes filled with impeccable focus. The crowd going wild wasn’t an unfamiliar sight for Muriel, even in Podium, all except Asra was indulging in the inhumane entertainment with the sick glee of a child.

Not the stranger, thought. He looked almost as if he was judging, evaluating the combatants performance, assessing their moves.

When he turned his unsettling attention to the Count, with a sly grin plastered on his face, his eyes never quite carried the expression rest of his face mimicked.

They met -formally-, few days after. He was ordered to follow the Count as a prize haund to be flaunted around and for that evening, unbeknownst to him the Count had a particular someone in mind. He was brought forth the stranger as an exotic commodity all the while Count revelled in his skills of domestication. All he was told was to behave, apparently the stranger was ‘a big fan of his work’.

Stranger was an empath, he learned. Although it was quite obvious the Count liked to have him around for more than his unique intuition. The stranger played Lucio’s game quite masterfully, he was honoured to have his company, amazed by his ‘beast’... Everything about him was painfully genuine from his enthusiasm to his casual charm. Lucio was, for all he knew, seducing him.

All Muriel remembered was being thoroughly repulsed. He felt his rage bubbling, beckoning him to simply reach out and crush Lucio’s skull.

The Count asked stranger a casual question, “What do you feel in him?” and the stranger complied with youthful enthusiasm. He locked his piercing gaze with Muriel and in that instance, he knew the man could tell every ounce of fury filling him to his core.

“He fears you, my Lord.” he said in awe. “Impressive… No small feat, to command not only the body but also the soul of a man.”

It was exactly what the Count wanted to hear. It was also, far from the truth.

Later as Count kept close relations to him, Muriel came to realize there wasn’t a part of this man that was real. He had the distinct appearance of a northerner, yet his accent was clearly from south. He was well educated and abode by the proper etiquette much like a noble all the while assuming the mantle of a mere traveler. His frail figure and docile gestures were undercut by his eyes that more often than not reminded Muriel of a predator closing in on his prey…

Whoever he was, whatever was his agenda, he somehow had everyone fooled. Even Asra. He sparked his curiosity with foreign schools of magic, tricks and charms that Asra would never otherwise come across and gave him a taste of adventures he so desperately craved. Together, they would withdrew to their own little world. It was inevitable that Asra would fall for him. Above the shroud of lies and deceit, he was everything his friend desired.

For a very long time, the stranger had been smart enough to keep his involvement with Asra out of the Count’s attention. In retrospect, what gave him away was no more than an unlucky coincidence. Even then, his bluff was compelling enough to trick the Count.

Running into the Count and his Scourge in a shady alleyway, covered in blood, he had next to no ground to stand on. Yet, as Muriel was ordered to apprehend him, the man about the half of his size, standing with his best friend, never once looked cornered. If anything, he was mildly amused.

“Please, my Lord. He’s still limping from the last game.” he laughed, eyeing Muriel. His tone shifted to align with his chilling gaze, then “Call off your dog. Unless you want him to go down without a cheering crowd.”

It worked, but he did pay for it dearly in the upcoming days. It took the Count more than a little fling to shake off that insolence. In fact, he doubled down on his advances. The stranger was no longer an enticing prize to be conquered, he was a stray to be tamed.

The stranger submitted to his whim aptly. There were times even Muriel wasn’t sure if he was truly desperate for the Count’s praise or it was solely another one of his acts.

Muriel wasn’t taken out much, back then. Whenever he did it was either to appease the crowd or satisfy the Count’s need for attention. He never thought he’d be brought to the shop, of all places. Count ordered him to keep them undisturbed as the stranger saw to his needs, thus he had the charming duty of guarding the door.

It was a cold winter’s day. Although dry, the breeze was no less chilling. It didn’t bother him much, he was just glad to be left alone.

The storm came in the form of his friend, though. As Asra approached the shop, he tried to stop him, he didn’t deserve to see what’s inside. But Muriel’s presence there was explanation enough.

Still to this day, Asra hadn’t told Muriel what happened between them in there. All he knew is he came out less of the quirky magician he used to be. He wanted to run after him, to offer him some sort of comfort but stationed there, he remained. A couple of minutes passed and the stranger emerged,

“Hey. Lucio’s gonna be sleeping for some time. You wanna come in? I made tea.”

Something about him was off. There were no trace of life in his sunken eyes, and absent of his cheery smile, his face revealed the subtle signs of abuse. Muriel was startled to realize he was -perhaps for the first time- seeing him without his mask. What’s underneath was the face of a weary, broken man. If he had to guess he’d say that’s why he followed.

The stranger said he put the Count to sleep when he sensed Asra approach, that Asra didn’t ‘see’ anything. He would know about Muriel and Asra, of course. Maybe that’s why he tried to put his mind at ease. He kept his expression neutral, as if he didn’t know what face to make. Or maybe he was too tired to put up a front. Either way, it was the most honest Muriel had seen him.

He didn’t push for a polite conversation, nor did he show any effort to appeal to his good side. He simply sipped his tea in silence.

He did eventually speak to reveal one of Lucio’s colourful schemes. “Lucio purchased two cheetahs last week, he plans to pit you against them.” he said devoid of any emotion.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because despite what you think, I have no intention to hurt Asra. And you, by proxy.”

“Why should I believe anything you say?”

“You shouldn’t.” he admitted, “But you might still want to hear what I have to say. You’re dead, if they get a jump on you but they get disoriented by erratic movement. He hasn’t fed them since they came here, just make sure yours is not the first blood spilt and the second one should just go for the easiest target.”

“Who are you?” Muriel asked, despite himself.

His usual disguise settled back for but a moment “I am Karayan, a humble traveler from South. And a big fan of your work.” And in that same appalling moment, Muriel felt convinced. He felt that he could almost fall for a passing taste of the same charm he used on many before. He chuckled hoarsely, “Who are you, Scourge ?”

Many years later, Asra would tell him he had a feeling all along that the stranger was not the man he claimed to be, he simply ignored it for the sake of indulging in his company. He would say that no matter who he was, he always acted in their favour.

Muriel was certain that would’ve been the exact thing Lucio would say.

He never for one second trusted him. Still, he did beat the animals with the advice he took. For that alone, he despised him.

He came to him once again, in the dungeons he was kept. He picked the lock with practiced ease, all the man said was that Asra’s waiting for him by the docks. He disregarded any further questions Muriel had as if he couldn’t be bothered.

A spell was cast on him and when he looked back at the stranger he was met with his own grotesque face staring back at him. “Don’t be late,” his voice spoke, “I’m pretty horrible with swords.”

Muriel was small, much too small. Looking at his tiny, skinny hands as pale as a ghost’s, he finally understood what the man had in mind.

That day, he talked with Asra for the first time in years. That’s when they learned Lucio’s machinations, how he kept them both at his beck-and-call. And they even entertained the idea of running away. Surely the other man could get away on his own, he was good enough to break in on his own. But it was just empty talk, Asra would never leave him behind. He loved him.

He half expected this all to be a trap, Lucio was known to be creative with the way he tortured people but he returned to find the stranger where he left him. He actually seemed surprised to see Muriel. Perhaps he had the same idea as them. Whipping his hair back, still in Muriel’s form, he laughed “How do you fight with this? I can barely see what’s in front of me.”

As if this whole charade was nothing but a game for him, as if he didn’t almost get abandoned in a cell.

He returned them both back to their original forms, stepped out and “Good luck.” was the last thing Muriel would hear from him for a very long time. That was the last he saw of him.

They never got to learn his intentions, everything happened too quick to make sense of. One moment Asra was stomping out the shop in fury, next he was on his knees, clawing through his ashes until his fingers bled.

The second time he’d been to the shop was after Karayan’s death. Muriel came to Asra, wanting to disappear but Asra said he might have an alternative. He pulled out a worn-down tome from under the counter. At glance, its contents were pure gibberish.

“I managed to decipher it… I think.” he said as he shuffled through his own notes tucked inside.

“What is this?”

“...His journal.”

“No.” he pushed the papers away, “I want no magic of his.”

“Muriel, please. This may help you.” he opened up a particular page, “He mentioned this spell before… He said it’s the only curse he knows that can counter an empaths intuition, but that’s not it’s main purpose. Look,” he pointed at his own note, “It can make everyone forget. No one will know who you are.”

The man who woke up three years ago hadn’t the faintest echo of whom they came to know. Even then, Asra adapted quite easily. Perhaps he was just too desperate for a win or overjoyed to get to see the man he loved again. Muriel, on the other hand, saw him for he is. A performer skilled enough in his craft to deceive even the strongest man in Vesuvia.

For three years, he kept his eyes on him. Watching his every move just to catch the tiniest of a slip up, to no avail. It seemed like his secrets died with him. Still, he kept watching because Asra asked him. Because despite all, he came to care for a stranger who bore his late-love’s face.

Over the years, he couldn’t count the amount of times Karayan introduced himself with fingers of both hands. Each time, he had the same gentle, oblivious tone and each time Muriel ignored him. Amnesia was such an easy excuse but some of them had to live with the hole he left behind.

That was until he came to Muriel in his hour of need. Inanna should have known one white haired little man is not interchangeable with the other, alas she seemed to have confused them.

Asra insisted on his skills but Muriel had never seen him actually fight until that day. Even with eyes covered, he could feel the fire within as he readied to strike at what’s left of Lucio. It was nothing like Asra. If anything, his technique was on the other end of the spectrum, swift and practical. Much like how he used to be.

Muriel wasn’t sure why he gave him myrrh that day so he told Asra ‘for convenience’.

The man was persistent, he’d stubbornly take the long way around for the sole purpose of dropping by the hut whenever he left the shop. He’d bring replacement for his charms, some groceries he left with Asra but more often than not, he would just come by for a brief chat and tea.

At some point, without realizing Muriel started to keep the teapot warm. He started announce his own presence if only to catch a brief glimpse of the other man’s warm smile, knowing Muriel’s there…

There is a part of him that couldn’t simply shake off the idea that he may be under a spell, of sorts. There was so much of the journal Asra hadn’t yet decrypted, who knew what secrets they held.

If this had been the kind of person he was all-along, then who was the shady figure from six years ago?

So, to Asra’s question, he said “No.”

He hadn’t forgotten.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those who didnt play nadias route: at some point the apprentice and nadia get attacked by a goat in the forest.

 

From the distance, Karayan could hear Nadia banging on the hut’s door frantically. She was hurling demands and bargains but they seemed to be falling on deaf ears. He wasn’t going to answer. Karayan knew that, but there was nothing else they can do.

He’d been careless, underestimating the creature’s cunning intelligence. Thinking, wishfully, that maybe man the creature used to be wouldn’t be corrupt enough to attack his own wife. He was proven wrong, in the worst way possible.

Not only did their little trip through the woods ended up in a disaster, but it bore casualties. Innocent casualties. It shamed him that he hadn’t realized the chains around the animal that attacked them sooner, if he took a second to think before lashing out, all of this could have been avoided.

Lucio couldn’t lay a hand on them, not with the charms they put up shielding the path. It couldn’t touch them personally, but he thought now that maybe that was never the point. He’d felt pure blast from the creature as it watched Karayan struggle against the poor animal. He’d felt its excitement with his every move, every attack…

He’d felt the pang of jealousy bubbling up when it spotted him traveling with the Countess. The anger, betrayal… He could see the corners of its mouth curve into something that can barely be called a smile when the bear sank her teeth into his flesh.

Everything in his life had gone to shit ever since he accepted this case. Every single thing that could go wrong, went wrong, and then it just kept getting worse.

Beside him, the bear snarled as another jolt of pain shook the animal conscious. She was going to die, eventually. But there would be many more hours of agony until that. It would be a mercy to kill her now, the splinters that were jammed in her flesh were the only things that kept her from bleeding out.

The creature lurking beneath the shadows relaxed a little, seeing how no help was coming.

_ “Where are your vines and barriers, magician?” _

“I’m keeping them for you.” he tried to crack a smile “Go ahead, come closer.”

The creature grumbled in disbelief yet hesitated to test him. For some reason, it didn’t want to kill him. Only thing he could guess was that it wanted him separated from the Countess. It seemed generally concerned with him for now but he wouldn’t put it past it to hurt its ex wife just to get its way. So, he elected to keep it focused on himself until at least the Countess made it someplace safe.

He knew it was a long shot but he really hoped Muriel would come through…

_ “Still think me a fool, Kara?” _

There was a strong sense of poison carried by his name, as if merely the act of saying it caused the creature hurt.

He tried to hide his surprise with casual sarcasm, “I’m sorry, have we met?”

There was no other sound but the creature’s chilling, inhumane chuckle.

Maybe it was pity, or mercy that guided him as he dragged himself over to the wounded animal. Lower half of his body more akin to a dead weight, he crawled as he drew himself by his arms.

The bear attempted to intimidate him with a growl as he approached, yet there was no fight left in her to follow through. If she could so much as lift her claw, she could do away with him right there and then.

He placed his hand on her blood soaked head, behind her ear. A gesture to confort, all he could offer.

“It’s okay.” he said soothingly, petting her in gentle strokes while conjuring a spike of ice with his free hand. It was about all the magic he had left in him, he probably should have used it for healing himself. That would have been the logical thing to do… Even so, he was absently aware his leg was far beyond the capabilities of even a skillful healer, much less himself.

He felt her, he felt every inch of her skin, every pulse in her veins. He never considered his skills as a curse before. Not when he walked the streets of flooded district, when he starved, froze, beaten, killed… He did now.

He’d done this.

In a swift motion, he shoved the spike deep in her head. The animal stilled, falling dead over the splinters as she sank further down. To Karayan, it looked as if a candle blown, never to be lit again. It was so quick and effortless to leave his world in darkness.

Muscles giving out, he himself fell on top of her. He’d lost too much blood and the concerning part was the pain on his ravaged leg had stopped a little while ago.

He was going to bleed to death, at this rate. The realization didn’t strike him as hard as it should. Inexplicably, it even felt comforting. He would go in shock before that, he would likely be passed out when his life faded away. It was such an unceremonious way to go, amidst the woods, shrouded by branches. But such was his life.

That moment inwhich he had nothing left to lose, he tried to think all the ways he can delay the inevitable, somehow. His ideas were limitless, yet the time and resources were. He had a little bit of magic left, he could freeze his leg to stop the blood flow and possibly cut it off later. Or he could cauterize it. If he managed to do it successfully he might even be able to save whatever’s left of his leg. Or, he could try to cauterize it, and freeze it if he fails. Of course, that was assuming pain wouldn’t knock him out first.

He had to try, didn’t he? He didn’t like the idea of going out without a fight, to give the creature the satisfaction. He wanted to live, if only to avenge her. Even if it wouldn’t erase what he’d done.

Swiftly, he pulled out his belt and stuffed the leather in his mouth. It would be most unfortunate if on top of being a blind amputee, he lost his tongue as well. He thought of heat, not fire, as Asra had taught him. Heat like a hot steel of a pot or a freshly forged sword. His hand started tingling with magic, close to his face he could feel the temperature it emitted rising. He didn’t have much time, he surely couldn’t hold this for too long…

With his other hand, he mapped the wounded area. Three parallel lacerations, in the shape of her claw and a bite mark on his upper leg. The cuts seemed more important for the moment, that were where he thought the brunt of the damage was. It simply felt wet and cold under his touch, oozing with blood but mostly numbed. In a rather impatient manner, he tried to nudge the first gash closed. That was when his nerves erupted in anguish as if a millions of needles were simultaneously poked into his flesh. He sank his teeth in leather, trying to keep a steady breathing pattern. It was about to get so much worse.

He took a deep breath, steadied his scorching hand an inch shy of his skin and emptied his mind. It would be over soon.

Then, he let it happen.

It was a moment lasting thousands of years in his mind that he felt nothing but crimson. A red, hot pain that swallows anything and everything around him. As his body jerked and spasmed in agony, as his throat teared with a shriek, his struggle to keep his hand steady was utterly destroyed. He could feel his own melded flesh beneath his palm, distorted and abused in so many ways that it tempted him to just cut his leg off.

In a small mercy, his magic died down sooner than his willpower, but just barely. His hand fell down at his side uselessly. The burn didn’t dwindle with the absence of his abuse. He did, however, slowly get accustomed to its intensity. He was not going to allow himself to pass out now, not after what he’d endured.

Behind the drumming of his own heart, his ears caught the creature, his sadistic audience, erupt in a gleeful laughter.

He felt the Countess approaching. Likely alone. Out of options, he steep down to throwing jabs around to keep the creature’s eyes on him.

He was aware his voice came out in pathetic sobs, “What’s the matter Lucio? No more wildlife to throw at me?”

_ “I won’t have to.” _

“Sure, you’re strong and competent. ‘Tis all a good sport for you.”

_ “Are you mocking me?” _ it snarled, although it sounded a little like he would believe it if Karayan backed down now.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

_ “I will rip you to shreds!” _

“Sorry, I can’t tell if you're trying to look threatening. All I see is…” he nodded to himself “a vulture.”

There were sounds of rustling as the creature came closer, only to halt when a gasp came from behind them. “Kara!” Nadia was just barely out of the protection of the charm but it sounded like she intended to fall on his side.

“Nadia, stay bac--!” he tried to shout however rest of his words were silenced by an intense pressure around his throat, blocking his airway. It’s nails dug deeper into his skin.

He couldn’t be sure what happens next, there was a loud thud, Nadia screamed something and he got tossed like a ragdoll back on the dead body of his earlier victim. He thought he felt Asra’s magic, but not his presence.

He lost some time, he couldn’t tell how much. All he knew was that he was being hauled up and suddenly as if his body just realized the severe lack of flesh on his legs, it came alive with pain. He felt like he’s branded all over again, the sheer intensity of it blocked all his senses. His hands scraped at something, or rather, someone. He gasped desperately but he couldn’t to get any air into his lungs. Something tightened around his shoulders. He was vaguely aware Nadia talking with someone but between the blood loss and rigid pain, he was unable to make anything out.

He was brought indoors. Seeing how the closest structure in their vicinity is the hut, it must’ve been Muriel. There was a racket as soon as he’s let down, with random things getting tossed around and cluttering equipment.

“Muriel?” he checked just to be sure. And he was met with a heated response he should’ve expected “What were you thinking?”

Muriel sounded a little bit shaky, rummaging around his stuff. What was left of his pants were cut through from the leg and he assumed what could only be an ice patch pressed on his wound. Kara gathered his strength to place a hand over his injury but he couldn’t tell much, not without hurting himself further.

He felt somewhat stronger here, closer to Muriel. If he could just leech off of his power, only a little, he might be able save his leg. It was a peculiar practice but not entirely unheard of. If nothing else, it was an excuse to calm the man down.

_ Lend me your strength _ , he wanted to say but all he can muster was a meek “...Muriel.”

“Keep the ice until I find the herbs.” his voice came out too strong and too loud. “Inside voice, please.” Kara felt irritated by the wetness on his face, mostly soaked up by his blindfold. He yanked it off and rubbed his eyes. He needed to stay in the moment, if his head allowed it.

“Give me your hand.” he said, when he’d gathered his thoughts, and extended his palm towards the man.

“W-What?!”

“Your hand, please.”

Nothing happened for a while as he persistently kept his stretched arm still. Eventually, a warm weight settled on it. He must be from South, Kara thought. His body temperature was very high.

He closed his fingers around however much of Muriel’s hand he could cover and immediately, the magic surged through him vehemently. He didn’t think he’d be met with this amount of pure power, the man felt like an untapped gold mine. As he felt himself shaking a little, he did his best to focus the energy on healing. His mind was so fuzzy that he could tell it was going slower than it’s supposed to. Still, bit by bit his leg started regaining stimuli.

Nadia gasped in astonishment, “Extraordinary.”

She gave him a second before fussing, “Are you alright?”

“Drained… Healing is a disaster. Are you hurt?” he spoke in slow, forced syllables. That was about all his lungs allowed.

“Nothing serious, I believe I chafed my hand on the door.” there was an undeniable cold disdain in her voice.

“You should’ve told me it was  _ him _ .” Muriel shot back.

“I naïvely assumed that the prospect of an injured man would be enough to motivate a bystander. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“I came as soon as I heard.”

“And when was that, exactly? When our transport got destroyed, when we had to confront a crazed beast or was it when his screams disturbed your pen?”

“I didn--”

“Enough!” Kara’s voice cracked a little, but it got the message across. Everytime someone made a sound it scratched the walls of his ear. All he wanted for now was a bit of peace and quiet, “He must’ve thought we are a hunting party, you don’t expect the Countess of Vesuvia to appear on your doorstep when you’re living in the woods… Now it would be very nice if we could sit in uncomfortable silence until the rescue party arrives.”

“They shouldn’t be long.” Nadia nodded, pushing back her concern.

They waited, in an uncomfortable silence, as per Kara’s request. He sank back into the mattress he’s put on as he listened to his own heartbeat. The scent of copper hung in air but the sheets smelled like damp firewood and myrrh. The mattress was in no way comfortable yet it was calming, he found himself engulfed by it. He realized, at the back of his head, that he’s still holding onto something, it was warm and pulsing. It was the last thing he thought before he drifted off…

…

He woke to the sound of crowing, lamenting the dusk. His memory of yesterday was a little hazy, but mostly intact.

He really needed to stop coming to Muriel’s place just to pass out. It was becoming a habit.

As expected, he still couldn’t feel Muriel. But something brewing on the stove smelled amazing. Seeing him awake, Inanna yawned and hopped to his side.

“Morning, girl. What did I miss?”

She scoffed and laid her head on his thigh, there were remnants of a phantom pain still lingering. He knew it to be more psychosomatic than physiological, though he wasn’t sure how. This whole ordeal had been the first time he’d been seriously injured in three years, it should’ve been more traumatic, yet it wasn’t. There was a shrouded sense of familiarity, even, one he couldn’t shake off.

He’d entertained the idea of using pain as a trigger before. He simply never had the… incentive. Now he felt like he had a taste of his past, and it sparked an intense desire to know more.

He idly ran his fingers through Inanna. He checked for any other sound coming from inside but they seemed to be alone.

Thoughts flowed in his head, and he tried to catch anything that could be an evidence. There were many aspects to the encounter that he didn’t want to remember. Why did he charge, when he did… without thinking, without looking? Why did he know exactly how it would feel like to burn even before his hand touched the wound..?

Door creaked open.

“You’re up.” came a familiar voice.

“Good morning?”

Muriel’s steps grew close, only to stop at the bedside and backtrack to the stove. “Countess has left.” he said, accompanied by some clanking “We didn’t want to wake you.”

“...Thanks.”

“How is your leg?”

He stretched it a little, much to Inanna’s complaint, “Pretty good, considering. How does it look?”

Muriel paused, but then slowly revealed “...fine.”

“Lovely. Wouldn’t want to damage the goods.” he joked.

“Did you… cauterize your own wound?” he sensed a genuine curiosity and perhaps a little concern from his tone, something he didn’t come across very often.

“I admit, not my brightest moment.” he bit on his lower lip to push the memory back, “Thanks for coming when you did, I don’t think I would’ve lasted for much longer.”

Muriel sighed, “I wasn’t fast enough.”

“If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be here. I appreciate it.”

It wasn’t like him to say something like _ you’re welcome  _ . Karayan had come to realize that he communicated these things with subtle gestures. Varying from ‘not kicking him out outright’ to something as simple as ‘offering him a cup of tea’. It was those tiny quirks that fascinated Karayan. Even though he knew how morally corrupt it was, he did approach him like a mystery to be solved at times.

Muriel took the stool at his side with the beverage from stove. The spicy, acidic scent tugged Karayan’s  memory. A lukewarm longing settled on his chest… It smelled like home.

“Is that gløgg ?”

“...Mulled wine.” he handed him the cup, “With some fresh fruits, to help with your blood flow.”

He pressed his nose on the rim of the cup, taking it in “I haven’t smelled this in ages… Thank you.”

When Muriel eventually spoke, there was a lack of pressure on each syllable as if he could trail off at any point “It’s a northern recipe…. Is that where you’re from?”

“I… don’t know.” He didn’t remember how its name came to him, either. He just knew… He knew this scent, he knew the cozy feeling it brings, and he knew the burn he’ll feel even before it passed his lips.

“You’re very pale.” Muriel said as if it disturbed him.

“So I’m told. Perhaps I am a northman.”

“Homesick?”

“I doubt that I can miss what I can’t remember.”

“You can.”

The statement felt so loaded that Karayan couldn’t help but to pry, if only a little “You’re from south, are you not?”

“What makes you say that?”

“You… uhm…You’re warm.”

Not that he expected to get anything out of him but still he felt disappointed when the other man cut him off “I grew up in Vesuvia.”

“Then, do you like it here?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Well…” he took a nervous sip, “Shouldn’t you be happy where you live?”

“...All it needs is a roof over your head.”

“That’s very a practical attitude.” and a little sad, he thought. Upright, the hermit is content on their own. They seek solidarity to achieve inner peace. They may be alone, but seldom lonely… If Muriel picked out a card now, for present, Karayan was almost certain it wouldn’t be Upright.

“Why do you care about these things?”

“You do too.” he pointed out, “That’s why this place feels so much like you. Just as the shop feels like Asra.”

“Asra, but not you.”

Karayan chuckled, “I’m still figuring out who I am, I’ll get to it eventually.”

They sat side by side for some time, the quiet didn’t feel forced. Even though Karayan wanted to push for more, he held his tongue. He found it meditative to steal a moment alone like this, he wouldn’t sully it with his curiosity.

Eventually, Muriel helped him on his feet. Karayan knew his leg was as good as new, and that he didn’t have to. But he let him anyways.

“Will you be fine to get to the shop on your own?”

“Yeah.” he pulled his cloak over the missing part of his pants. It wasn’t covered all the way but it beat walking around half naked. He remembered, then “Uhmm… Muriel,”

“Hm?”

“I’m not certain if it was Lucio or something else but that bear was not acting on her own accord. Something is disturbing the wildlife… if they can influence it--”

“What bear?”

“The bear that attacked us.”

“A bear attacked you?!”

“Didn’t...?” he stopped himself when the realization sank in, “…Nadia didn’t tell you.”

“What--” Muriel cleared his throat “What became of the bear?”

He should already know the answer, Karayan thought. Still, he brought himself to say it, “I killed her.” his next words were spoken more to himself than to the other man, “I’m sorry.”

He muttered a quick warning but didn’t stay long enough to find out how Muriel reacted, “Just… please be careful, there are things that can slip past our magic.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i changed the conjugation of the entire work bcs im much more used to writing in this format

What had happened was unfortunate but Muriel didn’t exactly hold it against Karayan, it was quite clear he wasn’t inherently a violent person. Dangerous, for sure, but not violent. There were a loaded list of things Muriel still didn’t know about the apprentice but he knew that ingrained reflexive mind space in which survival mechanism takes hold. He knew it all too well. Although he couldn’t imagine why a man such as Karayan would gravitate towards fight instead of flight, he was obviously not, nor have ever been a combatant. Even disregarding his appearance, the mysterious traveller he’d used to be was way too calm and calculating to be anything such. But then, the more he got to know him, the less anything made sense. He still couldn’t wrap his head around how a man of his caliber could support his own weight much less wrestle a crazed bear. He was so light the other day when Muriel had to carry him that he thought the man would just float away with the wind had he let go. He tried not to think about it… or him, in general. 

It was proving to be increasingly harder as the other man seemed determined to keep some sort of contact despite Muriel’s lack of response. He had come by yesterday, telling him he’ll be travelling to the mountains, asking him if there’s anything he wants. Muriel, of course, blew him off. Unsurprisingly at this point, he’s back on his door the next day.

He must’ve climbed high, Muriel thought. His cheeks were slightly sunburnt, it was a healthy look on him. Why Asra was so keen on resurrecting this man was beyond him, most of the time he looked about as lively as a well preserved corpse. If Muriel hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes he wouldn’t even believe he had any blood running through his veins.

He didn’t mean to come off as rude but he didn’t know what to say so he gave a quick “Hmpf.”, the man’s head snapped up to face him with the sound of his voice and his lips curled to a gentle smile. The genuineness of his features fazed him still, with his eyes well covered Muriel had no way of knowing how much of it could just be anthics. The man tilted his head slightly and furrowed his brows in confusion, “There’s something behind your ear.”

Muriel instinctively reached for his ear but Karayan’s hand met his there. He flicked his fingers and pulled something out, holding it out for Muriel.

It was a single forget-me-not, still flush and very much alive. “What…” he gaped at the man. He giggled “It’s a magic trick. I am a magician, after all.”

Carefully, he took it from the man, bringing it closer to his eyes to examine better. It was the first time he’d seen it alive away from its habitat. “It’s a simple spell… nothing sketchy,” nervously the man began to explain “I wanted to bring you something, but I didn’t want to pluck it out.”

“What’s it for?” his voice came out harsher than he intended. The other man didn’t seem to mind, “For you, it’s a gift. It won’t wilt, it draws life from my magic.”

He was going to ask ‘why’ but he stopped himself as a question is arguably one third of everything that came out of his mouth. It didn’t look like he expected anything in return but the innocent enthusiasm on his face made him look like a dog waiting for a treat, somehow. 

His hand moved on its own, reaching down to pat the smaller man on the head. Karayan didn’t react in any way, oddly though, a prideful smile settled on his flushed face. Combined with his colourless features, he reminded Muriel of Mercedes and Melchior. Muriel wondered if that’s how Lucio had seen him as well; docile and obedient. He wondered if that was how Asra saw him… 

What was underneath that blindfold? If he yanked it off, would he meet with the same cold gaze from years back or would they be true to rest of his expression?

He suddenly realized what he was doing, as soon as he did, he jerked hand away. What came over him? 

His first instinct was to run away or hide but it was his home, he had nowhere to go. He didn’t want to be part of one of the man’s weird schemes. His best friend wasn’t enough now the man wanted  _ something  _ from him as well? Was this Muriel’s doing..?

He could have left the man alone, he had a good thing going on with Asra. He didn’t need to give him the myrrh. For too long he had watched him from the sidelines; he had warned him about Julian, threatened him about Asra... never once did he cover away. Clumsy, reckless, that’s what he was. Even now he accepted his touch with naïve delight with no knowledge on what these hands were capable of. 

“...thanks.” he said, hoping he wouldn’t catch up on his panic. He didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.

“My pleasure.” he nibbled with his lower lip, seemed like a nervous habit of his. 

Muriel invited him in, eventually but he said he’s expected elsewhere. 

He wasn’t disappointed, he made the offer out of obligation anyways. Yes, he’d boiled water for tea thinking he might have company but it was just to be polite. He was not disappointed.

He carried on with his daily routine like he always had. However, nothing worked quite as it used to. There were thoughts at the back of his head that he didn’t care enough to focus. He already had plenty on his plate without adding Asra’s cheeky apprentice on it. He didn’t need unnecessary visitors, he didn’t need someone to bring him warm bread, fresh out of oven early in the mornings, he didn’t need anyone to spoil his chickens, indulge in pointless small talks or to change his charms and he definitely didn’t need them to pick him flowers... He had Asra for when he really felt like seeing someone. Even though he didn’t really listen to anything Muriel said, if he had, they would’ve been long gone from this wretched place.

Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to regret staying. As of late, he found himself contemplating the past not as often as he used to, and when he did, he rarely got lost in it. The hut didn’t feel as big or abandoned as it used to, either. 

These things took time, after all. In his case it took some three years but it was a good start. 

After keeping himself busy for the most of the day, he eventually retired to the hut. 

Inanna left for her hunt, or just to keep herself entertained. She had a peculiar fascination with Karayan, whenever he was around she didn’t act like herself at all. That made two of them. Although Muriel’s behaviour could be ascribed to his rusty socialization skills. Still, he could see why she might be comfortable with him, he was a friendly person. 

The flower remained on the end table he placed, still alive. It was subtle but he could see the marks left by Karayan’s magic. There was a slight difference between the charms and runes he brings and this gift. It felt more like the man himself, on an intimate level. The trails of Karayan’s magic was unlike any he’s seen. His own magic was somewhat faint and Asra’s contrasted his on all regards. Karayan’s however… if he had to pick a word he’d describe his as ‘shy’. It emitted a sense of apprehension. 

With the flower here, the place felt occupied. And Muriel realized that it didn’t bother him. 

He lied down, absently brushing a finger on its petals. It was a very delicate flower, usually wilted when it’s that far from home. It was odd to be touching it freely like this.

_ “There are fields of them, you would’ve loved it.” _ Karayan had said before he left. As if he wanted to experience it with Muriel. Or rather, saddened that he didn’t get to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are always welcome ^^


	6. Chapter 6

_ He found himself standing in the midst of pine trees reaching higher than the eye can see. It was unlike any forest he’s seen, yet it rose a familiar feeling in him in a way that he couldn’t explain. Boreal forests of the North weren’t well-known this part of the world, they allegedly housed great many dangers. Few adventurers that were lucky enough to come out alive and whose accounts hadn’t been lost often described them as a beautiful kind of death. Muriel had one of those back in his place, but that story did the untouched marvel of the flora towering over him no justice.  _

_ There was no signs of a path or even any sort of life as the steady snow erased every footstep swiftly.  He felt the breeze grazing his skin but it wasn’t cold. If anything, it was soothing.  _

_ He went one way or the other, without any landmarks, every direction looked the same. He wasn’t sure how long he wandered aimlessly until among the vast emptiness of frozen branches, one bit of design caught his eye. A small cairn. It was the only indication of any life he’d seen so far, clearly man-made. It was barely balanced, looked like it would fall apart if he so much blew on it. It didn’t appear new though, with the stones worn away and covered under snow. From the edge of his vision, he spotted another one just like it. He realized it must be a trail marker.  _

_ He followed them. The flora was so repetitive that at first he suspected that he was walking in circles. That is, until he reached an ash tree. Slightly shorter than its counterparts but it stood apart as the only one of its kind. There was no explanation for it to grow here, it was not in any way suited for this climate yet it stood tall, more lush than the woods that surround it. There were pieces of cloth decorating all of its branches.  _

_ The tree quivered as if it could tell his movement. Curiosity got the better of him.  _

_ He placed his hand on its elderly trunk and found it oddly warm. Pulsing, even. One of its branches bent down to his level as if to beckon him. For what, he couldn’t tell. He ran his hand over one piece of red cloth tied around it, it was significantly more faded than the rest but didn’t give away when he turned it over. There were scribbles on it, from what he could make out, it resembled a child’s writing. Whatever it was meant to be, it was in a different language. He tried his luck with a newer one next to it, ‘learn to make fire runes’ was scrawled on it. The one on the far end read ‘bring Hákon home, he’s not well’  _

_ It was a wish tree, he scarcely remembered them from his youth, they’ve had something similar back in the South. It wasn’t everyday he came by something that reminded him of his birthplace, certainly not in any place that looked like this. _

_ Clearly tired of waiting, the tree pulled the branch back and withdrew. Next time he felt the bark, he found the pulse absent.  _

_ He wondered if it could be sentient in any way. Would it respond if he talked. However, as of right now it stood same as any other regular tree. Behind it, the trail went on, so he decided to continue. Not long after, he found himself at the edge of the forest. The woods gave their way to desolate hills of nothing but rocks, ice and snow. _

_ The sight that lied before him was nothing short of breathtaking. All colours of lights danced on the sky above, painting the soft snow with their own as they curled between the stars.  _

_ When he could gather himself enough to pierce his eyes from them, he noticed a man was sitting under them, cross legged and laid back, enjoying the spectacle. His long, white hair let down, melded together with the snow. He looked much more at home here. He didn’t stand out, not did he feel the need to hide in a corner. Muriel knew he tried to appear as small as possible when he was with him, and with Asra, he was overshadowed too easily. Pulling over his hood was all it took him to vanish in the background.  _

_ Not in here. In here he was different, in an otherworldly manner he didn’t disappear in the mountains as white as him, they disappeared in him. With the sky reflecting on his hollow eyes, for a moment he even looked as if a galaxy was trapped in his irises. _

_ Completely engulfed by the experience, he didn’t react to Muriel approaching. _

_ “Is this where you used to live?” Muriel asked. _

_ “Your guess it as good as mine.” he smiled, he then tapped on the snow covered ground next to him. Muriel complied, taking a seat by his side. There was no sound or sense of danger, only them and the lights above.  _

_ He wanted to ask if he could see them, or if he remembered what they looked like. He wanted to ask if he’d rather be here. He wanted to ask if those were his wishes tied to the ash. He found himself wanting to know more; why he was in Vesuvia, what he does when he’s not keeping him company, does he return Asra’s feelings, is he aware of them, what’s his favourite flower… he dropped himself to the snow, drinking in the view to empty his head.  _

_ In here, it was surprisingly easy to let go of any thought. Nothing in his mind plagued him quite as intensely as they usually did. Even his past seemed no more than a distant memory... it didn’t hurt. Desolate as it was, this place acted as a reflection to the man himself. Utterly and completely.  _

_ “Can you feel it?” the man said in astonishment,  “It is you the sky reacts to.” As he talked, purple and blue glow illuminated him.  _

_ “This place feels like you...” _

_ “Maybe…” he shrugged, “it doesn’t belong to anyone. Would that be so bad?” _

_ “No.”  _

_ No, it would be perfect. A remote uncharted heaven where only those who are lost stumbleupon. Where he can think about anything, anyone without the burden of reality. And once he leaves, there would be no trace left behind.  _

_ The other man fell down next to him, keeping his barren gaze fixed on the lights he could no longer see. They lied for what feels like hours, in the land where the sun never rose. He watched as different shades washed over his features, a snowflake grazed his cheekbone, and then another one landed on his eyelashes. He batted them, and it melted away.  _

_ “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” _

_ Muriel blinked, averting his gaze. “It is.” _

 

_ “You heard that?” a voice came but it didn’t belong to either of them, it didn’t belong here. He looked up to realize he was no longer under the night sky. “He thinks you’re beautiful.”  the voice laughed. _

_ Everything was suddenly covered with a thick, red fog and he couldn’t quite make out his surroundings but he knew exactly where he was. He knew it instinctually. _

_ Beneath him was no longer the soft snow but expensive silk sheets. He was lying on the Count’s bed, with him standing at the far side. His face was concealed in shadows but his fingers idly ran through a white coat beside him. Muriel’s eyes followed the gesture to the figure sitting obediently at Lucio’s feet, marveling in the attention. _

_ “What do you say?” the Count now spoke directly to the other man “Don’t you think he earned a hefty reward after today’s games?” _

_ “Yes, my Lord.” the man gave a playful smile.  _

_ “Well go on, then. Show him how much you enjoyed his performance.” _

_ He bowed his head and slowly rose to his feet. All Muriel could do is to watch in horror as the other man climbed onto the bed, he wanted to protest but no matter how much he tried, no coherent words came out. He couldn’t move a single muscle.  _

_ The man elegantly placed a hand on his abdomen, circling it delicately. Gentle though the action looked, Muriel’s skin felt as if a block of ice was rubbed on it. If he had any control over himself, he would scream. Oblivious to his objections, slender fingers came to a stop at the buckle of his belt. For a brief second Muriel made himself believe that his torture would end here. But it was over too soon. Soft lips followed the trail of hair from his belly, kissing and sucking the skin as they go all the while his hands unfastened the buckle effortlessly.  _

_ Muriel’s eyes saw what’s happening but his mind didn’t quite register. As if the red fog worked to separate him from reality. He was aware, at the back of his head how very messed up this was but when he looked down at the man worshiping his skin all he could feel was disgust. He looked wrong, he felt wrong… He hated each cold touch more so than the last. This was a sick mockery of the man. _

_ As soon as he thought that, the man’s head lifted up to lock his gaze on Muriel’s. How long had it been since he’s seen that frosty blue? How long had it been since they faded? This was not right.  _

_ As if he could hear his thoughts, the man chuckled. His features hardened to a cruel grin that didn’t fit his face. He pulled himself up to press his body on Muriel’s. Softly, he cupped his cheek and leaned down enough for his lips to stop hair’s breadth away from Muriel’s ear,  _

_ He whispered, “Wake up.” _

 

His eyes flew open with the pain from his lower body. He jolted up, trying to make sense of the present. He frowned at the bulge in his pants. He must’ve rolled on his erection in his sleep… He was no stranger to morning wood now and then. 

He dropped back, it should went down on its own in a couple of minutes. He pressed his fingers on his eyes, trying to think back on his dream. He hadn’t had a dream that causes his body to react this way since his teenage years, to say it’s inconvenient would be an understatement. He groaned and pushed on his arousal, the pressure helped a little but he really didn’t feel like touching himself. He felt more disoriented and confused than aroused.

Not too long after, there was a gentle knock on his door. Is it too much to ask for a little peace and quiet in the middle of a forest, he thought. If he hadn’t almost cause someone to bleed out by the meadow just a couple of days ago, he would ignore the visitor. He didn’t need something like that on his conscience as well, so he got on his feet.

He creaks the door just enough to show his face and nothing else. 

“Oh, I woke you up didn’t I…” came a soft voice. As soon as he heard it, the memories came crashing down. The fields of snow, the lights, the rest… 

Something was clearly, fundamentally wrong with Muriel. He couldn’t even blame this on weird mind games. Lucio was long gone and what remained was nowhere capable enough to pull off something like this and Karayan… no, he couldn’t keep putting this on him. He may have been a suspicious figure in his past but now it would be a stretch for even Muriel to entertain the idea of a sex spell on a flower.

He was confused, perhaps. He hadn’t let anyone in his life for many years, it was only natural for his active imagination to lash onto the only other person he knew. That’s what he wanted to believe. He really did but then, he knew his heart. He would only be lying to himself. 

Of all the people in Vesuvia, it  _ had  _ to be him. Karayan was a compassionate person. He knew he was helping the Countess, he was meeting with Julian everyday, he assisted the handmaiden with her duties, Muriel wasn’t by far the only subject of his affection... 

Did he smile when he hears the Doctor like he did when Muriel greets him? Did he blush when Countess compliments his hair the way he did when Muriel shows him bare minimum attention? Did Asra know how it feels to take his hand? To hear him laugh? To hold him in his arms..?

“Are you okay?” he sounded concerned, trying to sense as much as he could through the thin crack and it brought Muriel back.

“I’m fine.”

Did they know how the edges of his lips dropped into a somber yet reserved frown whenever Muriel shut him off?

Not only had he dared to think he deserved anything Karayan had offered him but now he went and despoiled the memory of a man his best friend pursued for years. Would he stand here foolishly, had he known what Muriel was dreaming about just mere minutes ago?

Muriel knew if Karayan left now, he would be back by tomorrow, and the day after. He’d sit by Muriel’s side and compliment his cooking. He’d doze off coddling Inanna. He’d tell Muriel about the adventures that Doctor dragged him through. He’d prod him with mundane questions… 

These thoughts alone caused his blood to boil. There was no light at the end of this tunnel, Karayan would either learn about Muriel’s past or his own eventually. What would Muriel tell him then, that he was a murderer? And what would it say about the man if he accepted him anyways?

“Karayan…” the name tasted bizarre on his lips. He swallowed down the thoughts swimming in his head, “don’t come here anymore.”

He shut the door. He didn’t feel like he could deal with this right now.


	7. Chapter 7

Asra came over that afternoon to bring him the lavender essence he forgot he asked Karayan for.

“I heard you’ve been doing some dream walking.” he said casually but Muriel almost dropped the boiling pan, “I--What?!”

“Karayan said you visited him at his gate last night.”

“What did he say, exactly?” he felt the blood rushing to his face, if it was a shared dream… 

“Not much,” he pouted, “you two were stargazing and then you left.”

“Is that all?”

“Ominous.” Asra grinned, “Something specific you expected him to say, Muri?”

“No, no.” he put the pan down, for safety’s sake. Asra’s eyes glimmered with curiosity as he pressed on, “So? How was it?”

“How was what?”

“His gate!” he jumped on his feet, “We’ve been trying but we can’t access it, even he can only go there in his dreams… but you’ve actually seen it!”

Asra had mentioned this before, he recalled. Even before his death, Karayan never invited Asra in, back then he claimed it was too dangerous but now that Muriel had seen it he knew it to be untrue. “I don’t know how I ended up there, I thought it was a dream.”

“You were always better at this than me.” he huffed, “I’m a little jealous. Tell me everything!”

Muriel wondered how he’d feel if he knew the rest of his dream. So he tactfully left out the later half of it when he told him. Asra drained it eagerly, he’d been wanting to see it since he found out it existed. 

After hearing everything “It’s a little sad.” he said. Knowing Muriel, he continued without waiting “He must’ve modelled it after the forest he wrote in his journal.”

“You can read it?”

“Partially, still. Ilya’s been helping me with the foreign sections.”

He spared no effort to hide the contempt in his voice “You’re seeing him again?”

“From time to time.”

“Does he know what he’s translating?”

“Of course not.” he chuckled, but then his eyes glinted with mischief “Don’t you want to know?”

“None of my business.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Can’t we ever talk about something that’s not  _ him _ .” he finally snapped.

“What’s wrong with ‘him’?”

“It’s all we ever talk about.”

“Only recently, and that’s on you.”

“How’s that on me?!”

“When the witty wizard I share a home with suddenly loses the ability to form comprehensible sentences and an old friend of mine who hasn’t had the minimal contact with the outside world suddenly ups and starts leaving his door unlocked or cooking food for two I take notice.”

“He’s skinny.”

“Food is scarce in city, after all.” Asra laughed, “Alright…Ilya says there’s been a breakthrough in his investigation.”

Muriel let out a disgusted grunt, “I change my mind let’s talk about Karayan.”

“Sure. So what did he do that made you chase him off?”

He shrugged off the question, “Nothing. I don’t want to be disturbed, that’s why I’m here.”

“I thought you’re here because you don’t want to be recognized or seen. As far as I know he can do neither.”

“What’s done is done.”

Asra moved to observe the flower, he didn’t comment on it but he seemed interested. He must be able to tell the difference in magic as well. His tone took a more serious turn, “Muri, I’m concerned. For you.”

“You needn’t be.”

“You say that but… Don’t you think it’s good to have a chat with someone other than me from time to time?”

Good? Possibly. It certainly wasn’t ‘bad’. 

“I don’t have anything to talk about anyways…”

“I’m sure it was the eye-candy that Kara was coming back for.” he grinned slyly. It was just playful banter but after the night he had, anything remotely touching that subject made Muriel’s stomach drop. He could only hope Asra’s teasing would die down now that he decided to cut contact with his apprentice. He would like to know how the doctor reacted if Asra was this aggressive with everyone Karayan  spent time with. They seemed to be growing close, too. They suit each other, both seemed to have a knack for finding trouble...

“The forest with a single ash tree…” Asra began as he kept his attention mostly on the flower, “leading to the hills covered in snow… no longer exists. They razed it. They hunted down it’s people, butchered them…”

“Who’re ‘they’?”

“That’s what I want to know, it’s not made clear.” he rubbed his chin as he talked “How he knows, which side he was on… He refers to ‘them’ quite often. Sometimes like the enemy and often like a family. All I can tell is he bore no sympathy to the natives. Whether it’s his people or not.”

“Then, you think he may have razed a forest?”

“Not at all. He wrote the people angered the gods -I assume he means the Major Arcana- they sought what belonged to the gods by right.”

That sounded eerily familiar, he remembered reading something alike. Rushing to his stack of books, he rummaged through the various tomes and memoirs he’d collected over the years. He finally found the one with leather binding, engraved on it was a single ‘G.’

He turned over the section containing northern folk stories, he pulled up the one right after kids getting replaced with logs. It was a short story but it somewhat fit the narrative Asra was drawing; he could see Asra’s expression shift from genuine curiosity to confusion, then to repulsion, finally leaving it’s place to dismay. “You think…”

“I don’t think anything. It just sounds similar, is all.” 

“That would explain so much… If he is a half-breed--”

“Don’t call him that.” he grunted sharply. He despised that word, he may not have many memories regarding South but he recalled it being a very prominent insult.

“Sorry. He has a strong connection to the Moon… he always had. It just  _ fits. _ ”

“This is just a legend, you’re reading too much into it.” he snatched the book from Asra’s grasp to throw it back into the pile.

“Legends come from  _ somewhere.  _ Maybe that’s why you could visit him there, you share a--”

“No.” there were thousands of orphans, if he could stroll on someone’s gate on that basis he’d be going through them like a tourist.

“Why, then? We both know the only way to access somebody’s gate is by seeking it specifically. You can’t simply stumble upon someone’s private shelter by accident.” 

“That’s wrong, then. You’ve been seeking it for years with no success.”

“Well, what’s your take on it?”

At this point anything would be more realistic than a wacky folk tale, “He was a prowler… or something alike. He likely got banished from his birth town, traveled South after and eventually ended up here.”

“You’re much too quick to judge people…” Asra scowled.

“You said it yourself, you saw him kill someone.”

He swiftly rushed to his apprentice’s defense “I never said that. I said I saw him on the verge of tears beside a corpse.”

“And how quick was he to snap out of it? He’s a con artist.” He didn’t want to recall the event, it would make him lose his appetite and he’d been preparing this soup for a good four hours. 

Asra’s expression turned sour, “Is this your cynicism talking or are you just scared that there may be someone out there who might understand you…”

“You say that like it’s a good thing to understand me. I want nothing to do with it.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may as well tag it slow burn at this point with the way im stalling

It’s been a week since Asra had stopped asking Karayan if he visits Muriel. It’s been a week since Muriel had told him he shouldn’t. It’s been a little over a week since he’d butchered an animal, a week since he ignored the burning card in his pocket and it’s been a week since he hadn’t slept for longer than a couple of hours. He had been helping Julian, as he promised. Their wild goose chase was enough to keep his mind occupied for most the time.

It wasn’t one of those times, when Karayan found himself walking the streets of the marketplace, now left abandoned due to the storm. He couldn’t remember how he got there. He would have panicked, if he wasn’t as sleep deprived as he is. He could never feel himself but it never caused him discomfort. He didn’t find it much different than how any other person couldn’t see themselves. However he felt utterly empty, then. He felt a suffocating hollow void where he stood above the muddy pavement. He felt lost.

So, he finally gave in. The card wasn’t persistent, but it was constant. A warning, or a plea, he couldn’t tell. He let it lead the way.

He couldn’t bring himself to knock the door so he simply barged in. He was happy to discover the hut empty. He had manners, but they were long washed down with the rain and sleepless nights. He had nothing to lose. If the man walked in now to toss him out, it wouldn’t be any better or worse than his current standing. He lit the fireplace and dropped down next to it. This is where the card wanted him to be, and in here he finally felt ubiquitous. 

So he’d been here for about half an hour during which he cherished every minute like a divine gift. As long as he was here, he existed. As long as he was alone, he was at peace. Alas, this was no more than another one of his delusions. And it shattered unceremoniously with an act as simple as the opening of a door.

He braced himself for the question before it came,

“Why are you here?”

“I just…” he took a deep breath “needed a place to clear my head. You weren’t home so I thought it would be fine. Don’t worry, I was just leaving. I’m much better now.”

His voice came out too weak to be convincing, he couldn’t help it. He didn’t know why he was here, per se. And not in shop. Asra always told him to trust his intuition but so far all that bought him was more trouble. He rubbed his temples and attempted to rise to his feet.

“...You can stay.”

He halted, anxiously expecting the rest. 

‘You can stay until you dry off,  _ then leave _ .’ 

‘You can stay until you catch your breath,  _ then leave _ .’

‘You can stay until Asra comes,  _ then leave. _ ’

He knew it’s going to come out eventually.

He half-sat there awkwardly waiting for the inevitable… 

Nothing happened. The weight of the suspense crushed down on his shoulders, forcing him sink down. He felt like choking, and the uncertainty burned the corners of his eyes. He pulled his knees closer, hiding his face between them.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t know how to answer that, either. It felt good to be here, he wanted to stay. 

A worried hand pressed on top of his head, giving it half a stroke like he’s a pet. It was gentle and warm and Karayan feared that if he moves, it would go away.

“...You’re wet.” the other man noticed, he pulled his hand back and sighed in annoyance “You shouldn’t have come.”

“The deck called me,” he pulled out the card that had been sitting on his pocket, it was soaked and slightly peeled around the edges, showing the signs of wear. Asra would have to mend it when he got the deck back… 

He held the card between his fingers for the man to see before placing it on the ground, next to his feet, reversed. The man regarded it briefly but said nothing, so Karayan rephrased… “ _ You  _ called me.”

He was sure he did not interpret it incorrectly. It had been wearing down in his pocket for so long that he could scarcely remember the time without. His instincts brought him here.

Muriel’s silence didn’t surprise him. It would be too much to hope for, for him to outright admit to something so obscure. Though, he did not rush to deny it either.

He heard the floorboards creak as the other man’s footsteps became distant first. He rummaged through his belongings and returned. There was uncertainty in his motions, or so Karayan thought. They felt somewhat laggy.

Muriel dropped down in front of him with a thud that made him jump. 

“Are you cold?” he asked. It made Karayan chuckle slightly, how he was burning up inside. He shook his head, “...You’re trembling.”

“I’m fine.”

“You should dry up.”

“I’m fine!” he snapped. He wasn’t sure why his mood took an entire turn all of a sudden. He couldn’t prevent his frustration from bubbling up like a child. Driving Muriel off, or rather, giving him a reason to drive him off was the last thing he wanted. 

Trying to regain some control over his senses, he pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep breath “I’m sorry, I-” 

“You keep apologizing.” Muriel cut him off, granted, he didn’t sound annoyed.

“I haven’t been sleeping properly… I did not mean to be rude. I wanted to see you, so to speak, not to make you worry about me…” he could tell he was rambling on, making excuses but he just couldn’t collect his thought into a coherent sentence, “I can’t fight this feeling that I’ll forget you again whenever I’m not here.”

“You have myrrh.”

“Because my memory is so reliable otherwise… Maybe next time I forget a grand portion of my life I can sprinkle some rock salt on myself.” his hands reached for the pouch tucked safely over his chest out of habit, “It’s just a sack of herbs… It wasn’t Asra’s magic that took away my past. It’s just… gone. And so will you, if I so much tumble and this slips out of my pocket...”

He felt pathetic just hearing what was coming out of his mouth. 

“There’s more myrrh…”

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? How am I to remember that I’m supposed to get it?”

“...I would give it to you.”

Hearing that, Karayan’s chest felt slightly lighter. 

He wanted Karayan to remember. That’s what it meant… He didn’t want to be forgotten by him. A withdrawn smile crept up to his features and for once, he was thankful for the blindfold for hiding some of his face.

He opened his mouth to thank him but was interrupted, “Why do you want to remember?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you want to remember your past?”

“I…” he didn’t have an an answer prepared, people didn’t usually ask him why he wanted to get his life back “It’s been three years and all this time… nobody came looking for me. Still, I’ve been holding onto hope that I have family or friends somewhere, worried out of their minds. It’s easier than accepting the alternative.”

Muriel didn’t answer.

“What kind of a person lives twenty odd years with no one to care for them…” He wants to say so much more.

When he talked, it was much too careful as if he didn’t want to overstep his bounds somehow “Is it possible that you wanted it that way? You could’ve come here to have a fresh start.”

Karayan thought of that too, but this uncertainty was worse than anything, “In that case, I want to know what I was running from.” 

“You don’t know what kind of a person you’ll be once you get your memories back.”

“Look…” he sighed, “I can’t just let it go and move on. I’m not like you.”

“You don’t know me.” the other man scowled.

“No.” Karayan admitted, “No, I don’t.”

He fumbled through the contents of his satchel, pulling out the used comb. It weighed so heavy for a piece of wood. He heard the other man’s breath caught on his throat.

“Where…” 

“Red Market.”

The question was weaker this time, “How long have you known.”

He wasn’t certain, recently he was having a hard time pinpointing when one day ends and another begins “Four.. five days.”

There was no response for about a minute or so until finally Muriel spoke in a hushed tone, “Leave.”

And so it came. The moment Karayan anticipated. Provided, he did push his luck this time. Not that it ever mattered. 

“Leave!”

He disregarded the knot forming in his throat and rushed to his feet. 

“...And take this. I don’t want it here.”

Karayan extended his hand to take whatever it was he meant, and the comb was placed on it harshly. 

When he was outside, he didn’t know where to go. It was still raining, and like a broken compass, all his magic pointed to was the hut. He made a weak attempt to concentrate on the shop instead but his mind was not nearly clear enough. He wandered towards the clearing he met Muriel for the first time, as it was the only place he could go on his own right now. He passed the narrow pathway and made it to Asra’s charm. He tried again, hoping he may have a better shot.

Sure enough, he felt his master on the other end. It was faint, but it was something. He focused on him, on his magic. Oddly though, it didn’t lead to anywhere, it was across some sort of veil. He felt it when Asra noticed his, he was as shocked as his apprentice.

“Kara!”

It was a thought, more than a verbal remark, “Where are you?”

“I’m under the charm you left in the forest. On a path that leads for Muriel’s hut. I don’t know how to get back.”

“He never strays too far from home. If you wait for him there, he can help you.”

“I can’t.” his thought rippled across like a shaky voice.

“Is everything alright?”

“He is fine.” He knew it wasn’t what Asra asked and he could tell that his master wanted to pry but he held back “I’m sending Faust. Sit tight.”

“Thank you.”

The connection dissolved and he was left there on his own again.

His mind went to the card he pulled when Asra had first handed him the deck. He’d said that he wasn’t surprised, everybody with affinity to magic had a special card that speaks to them. Not about the past or the future but about themselves. Funny enough, his card never talked to him, it simply sat on the table silently. Since then, whenever his fingers found it again, he’d never met with a wise intuition. He thought that maybe that was the message; be patient, don’t rush for an explanation… 

He was stuck, he couldn’t start over until he let go of his past and he could never completely let go of what he couldn’t remember. All he could do was to follow his heart, yet whenever he did so he was locked in another stalemate.

He waited for what felt like about an hour when he heard a rustling around the bushes. It couldn’t’ve been Faust, he would’ve felt it. And its presence was much too dull to be the creature. The noise came again, closer this time. It was obvious now that it was not simply a trick of thunder and raindrops.

He was too tired to fight.

The presence didn’t speak, nor did it attack. It beckoned him to closer.

He knew he shouldn’t, Faust could be here any minute, and last time he’d done as he felt, it led him to a fight. It could be a trap, or simply his sleep deprivation causing hallucinations.

He was too tired to resist as well.

With every lurching step he took toward the call, he felt the world around him fade more and more. It was uncannily similar to the feeling he got when he casts an invisibility spell on himself. Yet he was certain he did no such thing. He realized he didn’t feel the rain anymore, he still heard the drops falling few steps away. He should’ve panicked, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything.

The presence still felt weak, even when it was right in front of him. It flickered like the end of a candles straw. Only when the vague shape shifted in his vision to resemble a wolf headed humanoid did he realize that it wasn’t a magic of this world.

“What are you?”

“Not many people recognize me these days.” they chuckled, “What does your intuition tell you?” Asra had warned him about the creatures that lurk beyond the veil, and he didn’t want to cause more trouble than he already had so he chose caution.

“That I should walk away.”

“Yet here you are.”

He focused, despite his reluctance and the answer came to him immediately “The Moon.”

They hummed in agreement.

“Why am I here?”

“Because you followed me.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I followed you.”

Karayan scoffed, hiding his frustration. They seemed about as cryptic as Muriel and much more dangerous to talk with. As if they read his thought -and honestly they may have had- they spoke, “Talk with me, don’t talk with me. Leave, don’t leave. Ask for help, don’t ask for help… you seem a little conflicted.”

“I prefer to say ‘careful’.”

“So tell me,  _ why  _ are you here?”

“I’m lost.”

“Indeed.” they rubbed their chin thoughtfully. “Relying a bit too much on what you hear rather than what calls for you, aren’t you? What happens if you find yourself on a crossroads without your insight to guide you?”

_ I’d ask Asra for aid, as I just did  _ he thought. What did the card expect?

“You don’t respond to me for three years and come with vague questions? I wasn’t aware we were on speaking terms.”

“You need to ask a question to receive an answer.”

He thought briefly that he heard his name being called from far away. It was too distant that he quickly dismissed it. He did have questions, if he wrote them out they’d fill a tome. 

“Where are my memories?”

“Where you left them.”

He sighs, “Where did I leave them?”

They pointed towards an arbitrary direction.

“Who killed Count Lucio?”

“No one.”

He waved his arms in frustration, “Well, can you at least tell me how to get back?”

“No.”

He heard his name again, remotely. “Great, thanks.” he bit back a curse. Asra definitely wasn’t lying about these folk. He didn’t feel the forest around him, if he turned back to the way he came, he wasn’t sure he’d end up where Faust would be waiting for him.

“Perhaps what is to be done now is to let go of the senses that bind you to the moment.”

“I’m one sense short already. Trust me, I can’t be that bound even if I wanted to.” 

“You have a rare gift, and it served you well so far…”

“But..?”

They took a step back as if to better present themselves, “What do you see?”

“A two legged wolf.”

“What else?”

Karayan squinted… a dog? A Major Arcana? He hadn’t seen shapes aside from his dreams, he wasn’t clear on what anything looks like. He wasn’t used to using his eyes, it made his head hurt to focus on its details. He blinked, even though he knew he wasn’t really using his eyes, he still had the blindfold safely covering over them.

“Look.” they ordered, snapping back his attention to themselves, 

“I-I don’t know!”

“Stop focusing on what you can already see.”

He was trying but he didn’t know the answer they wanted him to give. He stared blankly at the darkness he found comfort in. As much as he tried to keep a levelled head, he couldn’t help but to feel like he was trapped here until they’re satisfied.

He paced around, no matter which way he went, he seemed to end up further away from the narrow path that he came from. 

After a while, defeated, he turned around to face the Moon again. They were nothing like he had imagined. But still, why would they spend time torturing him. 

“Time?” they cocked a brow, “Where do you think you are?” they sounded like their patience was running as thin as Karayan’s, “ _ When  _ do you think you are?”

“I’m…” he stretched his mind, when he traced back his steps in his head, for a brief moment he thought he felt wet and cold. He thought he heard a man calling for him. He  _ saw  _ white.  _ His world. _

Hysterically, he chased the feeling as it slipped away. They could’ve showed him anything, and he’d be grateful. Colours, people, masterpieces of art... Yet they chose to grant him a brief glimpse of what he’d been longing for only to take it all away. When he glanced back he’s surprised to see them look pleased.

“Right here, right now is no less real than a crossing under the charm. They’re both in this moment, and they both exist simultaneously. There is no  _ way  _ to get back, if you haven’t left at all.”

It made sense, somewhat. Magic was not based on proximity, it transcended between realms, he didn’t need to be at a certain place and time to reach another. At the back of his mind, he heard his name again.

He turned to the card, seeing them still standing. As he thought, the voice afar dulled down. 

Looked like they had more wisdom to offer, if he chose to stay. With the power at their disposal, they might’ve even helped him get his vision back, his memories back... 

His heart desired to look upon the snow covered hills again, he wanted so desperately to untangle all the knots crowding his head ever since he woke up three years ago but… 

There was no point of knowledge if he couldn’t share it with his friends, or of his eyes if he couldn’t watch the lights in the sky with them… No, there was no choice to be made here. He needed to go back. People were waiting for him, Faust must’ve been worried sick. He had an appointment with the Countess and he owed Julian a drink.

The voice grew louder. His name, he was being called. He reached for it, if he could swap between moments, he wanted to be in one that he had his people.

At first, everything felt too loud. A deafening thunder struck the sky above and rain battered the leaves. He was soaking head to toe as if he’d been standing there all along.

He was back. Not exactly where he hoped but at least still somewhere in the general area. He could sense Asra’s charm somewhere closeby, seemed he hadn’t strayed too far. He took in the calming scent of wet soil and the feeling of raindrops on his skin. Despite his exhaustion, it was refreshing. He wondered if this is what people call “an optical illusion”, perceiving the entire visual but not comprehending sum of its parts. He’d never left this realm, and the Moon never passed through. Yet his mind had registered only one reality, ignoring the other.

The brief moment that he let his guard down immediately vanished as he sensed a grip on his shoulder. He jolted away, willing the rain into spikes of ice as he spun around. 

There was no one there. Another lightning struck, drowning all other sound.

Keeping the spikes close, he focused around him. He felt the familiar presence slithering.  _ Friend! _

“Faust!” he bent down to let her climb on his arm.  _ Lost! _

“Sorry, Faust,” he petted her apologetically, “You wouldn’t believe what just happened.”

_ Story?  _ She slithered excitedly to settle around his neck  _ Tell _

“We should wait Asra, he’s going to  _ love  _ it.”

She buried herself in his satchel, which had became pretty useless against rain about an hour ago. He felt concern from her. “What’s the matter?”

_ He’s not dangerous  _ she was poking her head towards where his spikes were pointed. “Who?”

He heard a familiar sigh, “...Me.”

“Muriel!” He dissolved his magic, “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

“I’ve been calling.”

The voice he’d been hearing… It couldn’t’ve been Faust.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear properly.”

He wasn’t ready to face him. He knew he owed him an apology as well, multiple apologies. For dragging him to a pointless search mid-storm, for prying on his personal business… He’d get to it tomorrow, when he had a decent rest, dry clothes and maybe after a round or two.

“I apologize for the trouble, I really should get home.” he gave him half a bow.

He turned to leave but then there was a tug on his cloak and the fabric came loose, sliding down his shoulders. When Muriel saw what’s underneath, the panic in his voice made Karayan’s heart ache “You’re hurt!”

“They’re old.” He cracked a smile, “You should see the other guy.”

He didn’t know how ‘bad’ it looked, there was just a dull pain where he took some hits but none hurt bad enough to require healing. He assumed they must have left marks here and there, Asra had said he’s very easy to bruise that one time faust squeezed his arm a little too tightly.

“Who…” he grit his teeth.

“It was a street brawl,” he shrugged “I don’t know.” It was a decent middle ground to settle on since he didn’t want to blatantly lie but the entire truth might affect Muriel’s opinion of him. 

Fingers grazed over the skin of his neck, so delicately that Karayan thought the other man believed him to be made of glass. They traced along the line of bruises but it wasn’t the pain that made him shiver. Wherever his touch lingered, caught on fire. He felt like he’s hit by a heatwave on a summer’s day that made the air in his lungs burn. Yet, despite himself, he couldn’t help but to drop his head back just a little, exposing his throat and pushing onto the touch. Amplified by that faint ache, the sensation was maddening.

It’s not fair, he thought. It’s not fair that his feets drag him here when left to their own devices. It’s not fair that his thoughts constantly find their way to a man who wants nothing more than to be forgotten. It’s not fair that he can’t see his expression. It’s not fair that such a simple, casual gesture inexplicably reduces him to a mess… 

When the touch left him, a sound that’s suspiciously close to a whine and inadvertently needy broke away from his throat. His cheeks burned in panic that Muriel might have heard him. Abruptly, he tried to choke it down by clearing his throat. 

In his usual manner, Muriel said nothing to indicate that he might be thinking. All Karayan could hear was his steady breaths and the little bit of heat from his body that could be felt when he was this close. He fought the urge to lean onto it, though he could tell his self control was slowly failing him.

“You’re freezing.” he grumbled, as if it wasn’t obvious “Come back to the hut.”

He bit back a smile, he would want nothing more. 

He’d been incredibly selfish so far, taking advantage of Muriel’s weakness for Asra. He hid behind thinly veiled excuses to steal a glimpse of what it would like to be a part of his life… it was wrong. 

“Thanks but I rather go.”

“You were lost for hours. You’ll get sick… Just come.”

His hand wrapped around Karayan’s arm but there was no force behind it. Still, it was tight enough that he could feel the other man’s pulse above the layers of clothing.

It felt bad to deny him now, the first time he heard the man make an offer like this. In any other day, he would jump at the chance to be welcomed there. However, he knew Muriel wanted to be left alone. He needed time. So he swallowed and said “No.”

“Why?” 

He had nothing to say so he tugged on his arm but the grasp didn’t waver. He tried a little harder, he had no chance against the other man, not physically. He yanked it will all of his strength and his voice rattled when he shouted “Muriel, let me go!”

With that, the hand was gone. When he was released abruptly, the momentum of his own movement caused him to stumble forth. He must’ve looked like a wretch, he certainly felt like one. 

This was his chance to take his leave. If he lingered longer, his resolve would crumble.

He didn’t want to be merely tolerated and taken care of. He didn’t want to be invited in only when he’s in need. He was already being a burden to one person. For once, he wanted to respect Muriel’s desire for some space.

 

_ At crossroads, without his insight to guide him. _

 

Muriel was not talking, yet he heard something he couldn’t quite comprehend. If there was a sound for loneliness, that must be it. It was devoid and invisible, just like Muriel was to him.

He wasn’t going. He couldn’t move, with his legs stubbornly planted on the ground against his will. He wanted to know what kind of face the other man was making, he wanted to have any indication of what he might be thinking. 

He couldn’t quite catch if the other man said anything. He felt bitterness biting into his words when he talked, “I appreciate you looking out for me, I’m sure Asra does as well. I’m not going to melt under a little bit of rain. Muriel, you’re allowed to take some liberties with your life.”

“What?” he sounded startled, did he not know that he could reject people, Karayan wondered.

“You know, do what you want. If you feel like you need some space or… don’t want to talk about certain things… with certain people… What I mean is… You don’t have you babysit the poor, helpless apprentice your best friend took under his wing.”

“What I want…” he merely tasted the words on his lips.

Karayan nodded, he’d be a little bummed out that he wouldn’t be able to come around as often, true. But he’d much rather Muriel’s company when he was welcome. Asra could simply vanish whenever he wanted and Karayan was used to it after three years.

When the footsteps grew close, he couldn’t help but to feel a little defeated. He said his piece, and he no longer had the strength to argue. Not that it was much of an argument with a man who said one word for every ten he did.

He expected to be hauled up or dragged along. He’d prefer to be dragged, he wasn’t fond of losing his footing. 

Instead, a calloused hand cupped the side of his face, not as reluctant as he’d come to expect from Muriel. Feeling was too alien that he found himself tensing up. The heat of  him too close and the concept was so astounding to be a mere hallucination.

The prickles of rain dropping on leaves, the crashing of thunder up above, wet branches creaking with the wind, even the sound of his own breathing faded out. The other man’s lips -chapped and rough, unaccustomed to being used for talking, much less for anything else- claimed his. They pried him open with a rather desperate craving, as if nothing else mattered. Karayan felt a mess of sensations, all at once. He felt a bittersweet longing, buried under an ocean of fear. He felt guilt, and shame, paved in blood. He saw red so intense that it was suffocating. He heard a roaring applause. 

The other man’s own force rose as if to drown out the hailing crowd.

He felt way too much, way too sudden than he could handle, and it made him go weak. He latched onto the other man, wrapping his arms around his neck. The collar bit into his skin, yet the pain at the back of his mind wasn’t nearly persistent enough for him to heed. And in response, Muriel’s arm moved to cover the small of his back, pressing them together and pulling him up so he was left with his toes barely touching the ground. Muriel pushed in for more, sliding his hand to tilt his head up, and Karayan gave in, moaning into his mouth.

The brief taste was not enough. He wanted to feel further, he wished to feel Muriel wholly. His aura colliding with Karayan’s, felt dim still. But in the darkness of his presence it resonated like the sun. Karayan clutched at Muriel’s hair, possibly hard enough to cause him discomfort, and it dawned on him that he was allowed to do this, he could sink into his warmth, he could touch him. Once he took it in, he wanted to do nothing but.

Muriel pulled away first, panting as he rested his forehead on smaller man’s. Karayan felt dizzy, moreover he felt very little, compared to the overwhelming clash he’d just experienced. 

Hair tangled around his fingers was thick, and longer than he’d imagined. Without thinking, his hands moved along the line of his jaw, mapping as much as they could. He brushed over the lazy stubble and it made him smile a little, how he’d never imagined Muriel would have it even though it made so much sense. His thumb skimmed over his chin, noting a particularly deep scar on the side, to stop at the corner of his mouth.

Maybe he should speak. One of them ought to, at some point. But right now he was filled with a need to taste him again. Just as he propped his head to lean in once more, Muriel met him halfway. The second kiss was chase, a lot gentler. Hand on the back of his neck kneaded through his hair, pulling it down just slightly. It wasn’t nearly enough of an ache to be noticeable yet something in Karayan broke loose and he gasped, louder than what would be acceptable.

It surprised the man and he attempted to back away but with his arms still locked around his neck, Karayan easily seized him. 

He needed more, and it bothered him that he did. He’d forced his way in this man’s life, when he could have left him in peace. And now, crazed by greed, he lashed out for what he had no right to. 

Too soon, the hand was withdrawn, alongside the man himself. He was let down carefully, and the moment was over. Absent of his heat and the experience that had set his nerves on fire, he suddenly felt the cold. Soaking wet, he’d been standing for more than a few hours in the middle of a storm. Not only did his entire body feel painfully numb but his legs were specifically protesting his negligence. 

He could still go back, it wasn’t that long of a walk and movement warmed the muscles, or so people claimed. Or he could just pass out on Muriel’s chest again, because that had gone so well last time. He really needed to get some sleep, he was still half convinced he was imagining things. It was the only explanation simple enough that he could wrap his weary mind around.

“Are you going to stay?” his voice lacked a layer of irritation, but instead sounded uncertain. Like he wasn’t sure if the bribe was enough.

Maybe that’s what it was, a method of persuasion? Karayan dismissed the idea almost immediately. He knew he felt something, and it was coming from the other man. 

His lips moved as if they had a mind of their own but what came out was but a whisper under crushing thunder “You care for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are always welcome ^^


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